Third Power
by kamelion
Summary: A fic for TJ, loosely based on the movie Cube. McKay and Beckett find themselves in a desperate situation. Rated T for language and some goryish scenes. Thanks for the reviews!
1. Chapter 1

"Carson?"

Carson groaned minutely. He quit. He was finished, over, past done. There wasn't a thing in heaven or earth . . . or anywhere else, that could willingly pull him from the sublime peace he was feeling. Except the pain. Very intense, sudden, frightening pain. His eyes opened reluctantly to see a figure bending over him, looking more scared than a man had right to be. Rodney. It raised an element of concern in the medical doctor, and a vague image of shock ran through his mind. "Wh – ?"

Rodney sat back on his heels with a sigh, running a shaky hand through his short hair. "Oh thank god," he muttered, breathing heavily. "Thank god. For a moment I thought I was going to have to do CPR, and that wasn't going to be pretty."

CP . . .what the devil was he talking about? "I believe we've been there already, haven't we?" Carson struggled to say.

Rodney's hand flapped in the air in disgust. "Oh, yeah, see, you had to bring that up, and what impeccable timing! I mean, here we are, trapped in some kind of Kitchen Aid toaster, and the first thing that presses on your mind when you wake up is my kissing you. . .Cadman kissing you." He huffed. "I mean, guess I must've left quite an impression, but then I'm known to do that."

Carson knew better than to get Rodney talking. "God above, you're not helping my head any." He felt a hand close on his arm, and sat up with Rodney's help. "Where are we?"

"Well," Rodney made a show of looking around him, "we started out in my lab, and . . . that's about as far as I've gotten."

Carson squinted at the man supporting him. He was blurred around the edges. "Are you saying we're not in your office anymore?"

"In a word, look around you."

"That's more than a word."

"Carson . . ."

"Alright, alright, I'm looking." The pitching eased as the room came into focus.

Nothing was familiar.

For one, the walls were metallic; a dull sheen that looked like thick aluminium. For some reason, considering the smell, he had expected to be in a cave, it had the same damp, oppressive feel to it. But this room was metal, and small. "Rodney . . ."

"Yeah, I know. We didn't fall through the floor or anything. I think somehow I must have activated a transporter of some kind."

"So you're saying we're still on the station." He leaned back against the wall, his eyes wide with shock.

"More than likely, though I've yet to figure out where."

Carson put a hand to his throbbing head. "And just how did you accidentally operate this transporter?"

Rodney stood and went right into smirk mode. "Interesting question, glad you brought it up." His finger raised to lecture mode. "Do you by chance remember that orb device I was looking at? The one that I picked up on MJ4-112?"

"Yes."

"And do you by chance remember coming up behind me and scaring the living CRAP out of me?"

A hint of pleasure crossed Carson's lips. "Yes, I do remember that."

"I dropped the damn thing right on the console." He sighed again, looking around him. "Must've hit a switch or something."

"Good aim."

"Thank you." Rodney looked back at his friend, his face flooded with concern. "You're bleeding pretty bad, you know."

"I can feel it, yes." How could he not, he kept wiping it from his eyes. "I don't suppose you happen to have some sort of cloth on you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think to grab my pack when we were suddenly and mysteriously transported from my office!"

"It was a legit question. Some people carry a hanky."

"A HANKY?" Rodney laughed, but it was brief. His expression turned serious, and he looked around the room. "Nothing here." His gaze fell on his friend. "Listen, lately you've been talking about wanting one of those dark jackets instead of this beige thing, right?" He squatted and tugged at Carson's sleeve, then peeled the jacket off. "Now you have an excuse." He bundled the material and pressed it to the wound over Carson's left eye. "So. . .just keep this here." Rodney stood and brushed off his pants, not necessarily from need, as he gained his bearings. There wasn't much to see.

He sighed despondently. "Figures, you know. Everything was so off today."

Carson frowned, shifting the jacket and reapplying pressure to his wound. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Rodney winced into the air, as though looking for words, "you know how you have days when everything clicks, when you say just the right thing and people understand you, and you feel useful and productive and feel like you can do no wrong?"

"Yes."

He was still wincing. "This isn't one of those days."

Carson managed a smile, despite himself. "Aye. I have days like that, where all I want to do is curl back up in my bed with a good book that I can escape into. Or maybe some music."

"What kind of music?" Rodney prodded, seeing Carson slowly pale at what had to be turning into intense throbbing.

"Whatever suits me at the time. I have rather eclectic tastes." His voice roughened with pain.

"Fine then, don't answer. I don't care." Rodney was already distracted from the conversation, running his fingers over the smooth walls.

Carson removed the jacket irritably. "You might care if you took the time to listen. Why ask a question if you don't want the bloody answer?"

Rodney walked by and plopped Carson's hand back up to his wound before examining the wall behind him. "There aren't even any seams, no real corners," he said. "Look at this, the wall just curves down into the floor."

"Fascinating."

"You're a real joy when you're hurting, you know that?" Rodney walked the perimeter of the small space. "Question is, what is this room for?"

"Rodney, will you please sit? You're making a vibration in the floor, it isn't helping my head."

"Vibration? Really?" Rodney jumped.

"RODNEY! – ow . . ."

"Sorry." He stopped and sighed. "Your head exploding won't mean a thing if we starve first, of course. I mean, damn." His eyes widened. "We really are screwed! I don't even have a powerbar. I have nothing."

"Not worried about running out of oxygen, then?"

"Oh, that's crossed my mind too. I'm just . . . trying not to think about it." He slid down the wall opposite Carson, his back bearing his weight. He landed on the floor with a soft thump.

Carson looked at him with one eye. "You're taking this rather well."

"Well of course I am! It's the McKay trait."

"Bullshit."

A small, self-deprecating smile found Rodney's face. "Fine. I'm terrified."

Now that he looked, Carson could see the signs. The almost imperceptible flutter of his dark shirt as his heart thumped heavily. The way his hands were restless while the rest of him stayed disturbingly still. "No way out?"

"No."

"No idea where we are?"

Rodney snorted. "You know, let me just grab my binoculars and look out the nearest window."

"You think we were transported?"

"How else would you explain it?" Rodney snapped, finally revealing his discomfort. He clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and resting his head back against the wall.

Apparently Rodney had already suffered his panic attack, before Carson woke. Thank god for small favors. "Colonel Sheppard will find us," Carson said.

Rodney's eyes snapped open, almost frightening in their intensity. "Oh yes, quick, let's entrust our lives to him just one more time, shall we? Because personally I get a big kick out of watching him gloat."

"He doesn't gloat!" Carson was caught by the glare, and wondered what issues Rodney had with the colonel.

"Oh come on, of course he does! That smug smile, that way he has of crossing his arms when he makes a point." He frowned. "It all smacks of one-upmanship."

"It takes two to play that game. Besides, you've saved us too, you know. Wasn't aware you were running a bloody tally."

"We have marks on the walls in the restroom. He's up by five." Carson wasn't sure if Rodney was joking.

He decided to stand. Anything was better than just sitting there.

A minute later he was on the floor with Rodney bending over him. "Dammit, Carson! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I thought I was standing."

"You're enough to drive a man to drink." He was about to reapply pressure to the head wound, but stopped, his head jerking around at an invisible sound. "You hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen." His attention focused. The men were quiet. Carson made a movement, and was halted by Rodney's upraised hand. The sound was now faint, but perceptible.

"What is it?" Carson whispered.

"I don't know."

They continued to listen, and realized it wasn't one sound they heard, but two. The first was a muffled thump, the second a shuffle. No, a slide. Thump . . . slide. Thump . . . slide.

"This can't be good," Carson muttered. Rodney just pressed the jacket to him, saying nothing.

The noise continued, growing louder. Coming closer.

Closer.

"It's in the wall!" Carson exclaimed, and Rodney threw his hand over his friend's mouth.

"Shut up unless you want to die!"

They huddled together, with nowhere to go, darting glances around them. The sound was now causing vibrations in the room, vibrations that set Rodney's nerves on edge and did nothing for Carson's head. The thump sounded more like a pound, followed by a grunt.

"Oh god . . . god, god, god . . ." Rodney muttered, and placed himself in front of Carson.

There was no warning, there was no way to see what was coming, no way of knowing how it would get in. There were no seams in the wall.

No seams.


	2. Chapter 2

"So help me god, if he's not in his office, I'm going to kill him. He won't have to worry about Carson's physical, because he'll be dead." Col. John Sheppard, one pissed off man, turned to his companion as he hesitated before McKay's lab. "You're looking at a man who's about to be incarcerated for murder in the first degree. I suppose that doesn't offend you in any way."

"I was just wondering which weapon you would use," Ronon remarked calmly.

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. He couldn't figure the man out. No one had any right to be that laid back after running from the Wraith for so many years. Maybe he had to keep his emotions so close to him that he decided the best course of action was to simply throw them away. No, not right, he'd seen the man laugh, and it was one hell of a scary thing. Sheppard jerked his hand over the panel that controlled the door mechanism. It slid open.

And the lab was empty.

Shit.

"Gun or sword?" Ronon asked.

"Bare hands."

"I know a technique that renders a man insensible and kills him slowly."

Sheppard allowed himself a look of consternation. "You serious?"

"You want me to show you?"

"You really think I want to kill McKay?"

"Sure, why not?" Ronon gave a non-committal, one shouldered shrug.

"You really don't like the man, do you?"

"I like him fine."

"Then what is all this about?"

Again Ronon shrugged. "You tell me."

"I – just forget it. Maybe he's eating."

"We've checked."

"And we'll check again! He's not answering his radio, he's not scheduled for downtime, he's supposed to be in Weir's office and she isn't happy! And who has to hear about it?" He pointed prominently to his chest.

Ronon was about to reply when the radio in John's ear chirped. He sighed. "Sheppard."

"John?" Elizabeth's voice carried a hint of anxiety, which alarmed him. "Have you seen Dr. Beckett?"

"No, I haven't. Ronon, you seen Carson?" Ronon shook his head and keyed his own radio as Sheppard once again addressed Elizabeth. "He's not in the infirmary? No, wait, scratch that." Stupid question, and Ronon's smirk wasn't helping.

"No one has seen him for the past hour. We can't find him anywhere."

Okay, now this was getting a bit strange. Ronon stepped closer to John as his attention focused. "It isn't like him to just disappear," he said quietly to the colonel. "Dr. McKay I can see taking off, but not Beckett."

John fingered his radio. "Listen, Elizabeth, I can't find Rodney anywhere either. I don't suppose they got it in their heads to go exploring or something."

"Without the ability to communicate? That doesn't sound like them."

"True. Something could have come up, I guess." It was lame. Those two would never just go rambling off to explore the city without contacting Weir and harnessing an army; both were too paranoid for their own good.

"I want people looking for them. Is that understood?"

What Sheppard was beginning to understand, was that the situation was taking on a more dangerous flavor. It really was out of character for both men to just vanish, and with the odd things that had been happening since, well, their initial arrival on Atlantis, it was best not to take chances. "Right. I'll keep you informed."

"Likewise. Good luck."

It sounded like he was officially embarking on a mission. For all he knew, he was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sound was just on the other side of the wall.

Both men had long since closed their eyes.

There was a loud thump and a sharp cry, not one of the killing sort, but of intense pain. Carson opened his eyes slowly, and spotted a female, lying prone on the floor.

That wasn't possible.

He nudged Rodney, who opened his eyes, and stared. The woman had pushed up onto her palms, with a look of total distrust fixed on the two men. Her faded blond hair hung in tangles around her face, her clothes were grungy and tattered. Her eyes were dark with fear, and anger. Carson guessed her to be slightly older than himself. He dared a step forward, and stopped as she sprang to her feet, ready to attack. "Wait, wait, it's okay! It's okay, I'm a friend. My name is Carson, I'm not going to hurt you." He held his hands out defenselessly, taking careful steps across the unmarked floor. "Do you understand?"

She stared, shifting her weight slightly from one foot to the other, fighting the apparent instinct to run. But run where?

"I really would like to know where you came from," Carson pressed. "I mean, there are no doors or openings of any kind, unless you created one."

She reached out behind her for the wall, and pressed back against it, her eyes darting from Carson's to Rodney's. "What do you mean?" she asked in a low voice.

"We – we just woke up here. We don't know," he raised his brows as he looked around the room, "where we are, or how things operate."

She was breathing heavily, more from anxiety than exertion. "I - I don't know how long I've been here."

"Did you wake up here too?"

She hesitated, still gauging her new companions, and nodded.

Carson nodded back, sensing Rodney at his shoulder. "She's in extreme shock," he muttered, "I can't see anything physically wrong with her to cause it."

"That doesn't bode well," Rodney responded as he crossed his arms. She tensed, watching him, and he noticed. He let his arms fall to his side, not wanting to appear threatening, or dominant. He has a suspicion that, whatever made the woman nervous, posturing wouldn't help the situation. She studied him closely, and he used the opportunity to take a step towards her. It was followed by a large, fast step back as she tried to become one with the wall. He gestured to Carson. "I'll just let him do the talking, then, okay? He's got that smooth voice that the girls seem to love." He offered a disarming smile, which was shunned. His head hung, but not before stealing a glance at Beckett.

Carson kept his hands visible. "Look, I know you're confused and scared. So are we. But I think we can help each other, you just have to trust us. We won't hurt you. Please. . ." he was standing before her now, and she was looking at him steadily, one shoulder braced against the wall. He eyes took in everything about him, including his head wound, which she studied with some apprehension.

He touched it gently. "I think it happened when we arrived. I really don't know."

She seemed to understand his confusion. She reached out for his hand.

He pulled her gently to the middle of the room as she looked around, surveying the area. "This one isn't like the others," she said quietly, "this one is lighter."

"There are other rooms?" Rodney asked. He shouldered himself from the wall he had retreated to after noting the timidness that she fought to disguise.

"Yes. They're much darker."

"How many?"

"I-I don't know. I've been in five."

"You don't remember how you got here, do you?" Carson asked quietly.

"No."

Rodney sighed and returned to his wall. "I saw a movie like this once," he muttered.

"How interesting for you," Carson mumbled. "Miss . . . look, can you tell us your name? I feel right odd talking like this without it."

She almost smiled, which wasn't surprising, because Beckett knew how, and when, to turn on the charm. "Lenore."

"Hello, Lenore. I'm Carson, and this," he gestured behind him, "is Rodney. Where are you from?"

She was easing into his presence. "Eron."

"Eron," he turned back to Rodney, who just shook his head, "I'm not familiar with that planet."

She frowned. "What are you talking about? It's the town I'm from." A laugh escaped her. "Not familiar with the planet?"

Carson glanced at Rodney, who was now glaring at him. It hadn't occurred to him that there might be places in the galaxy unaccustomed to interstellar, or interplanetary, travel. "Right. It was a joke."

Lenore merely smirked and walked away from him. She still seemed ill at ease, but her openness was encouraging.

Rodney was back to rubbing the walls, examining the round curves where corners should be. "How did you get in here? In this room, I mean."

"You haven't figured it out?"

He turned, looking miffed. "No, unfortunately we woke up shortly before you arrived. Otherwise I'd of had us out of here by now."

"Rodney. . ."

"Well, she asked!"

"A little decorum, eh?" Carson shook his head and turned to Lenore. "What did you figure out?"

"The walls aren't solid, not all of the time. You can move through them. It's hard, it's like really thick jelly that you might get caught in." Her eyes were raised, looking at the ceiling above them.

"A mosquito in amber, huh? Carson, a word?" Rodney signaled for him to approach, and faced the wall, turning him towards it as well. "There's something strange about her."

"Rodney, she's obviously been under a great deal of stress. Now in most cases. . ."

"I do have some rudimentary knowledge of psychology. I'm not totally inept." His tone was exceptionally sarcastic, and Carson was on the verge of walking away, but felt a hand on his arm. "Jelly."

"What?"

"Listen to her! Does she talk like she's from another planet?"

"Rodney, we've come across cultures that resemble our own. Some resemble more foreign earth cultures. If we are all descended from the same race, wouldn't it stand to reason that there would be similarities?"

He folded his arms. "And I suppose the English language is the mother tongue of the Ancients?"

"No, of course not!"

"Carson, have you noticed that we seem to have more diversity on our own station than in the entire Pegasus galaxy?"

"We've had to use translators with some races."

"We use translators on earth! We're in another god damn galaxy! Where's all the exotic speech?"

"Rodney, now really isn't the time to argue linguistics."

"We aren't arguing linguistics. We are arguing the very real fact that we shouldn't be able to understand everything that is said out here! We shouldn't understand any of it!"

"Then someone secretly put a bloody babblefish in our ear when we weren't looking!" Carson turned suddenly to find Lenore staring at them.

They stood there, sheepishly.

Lenore merely gave a nod and retreated to the wall opposite them, folding her arms protectively across her chest and sliding her back down the wall. She sat quietly.

"Way to go, Carson," Rodney muttered, facing the wall once again.

"And just what did I do?"

"You wouldn't shut up, as usual!"

"And you're Mr. Sensitivity, are you?"

"Look, just try to shut up, just for a second." Rodney was running out of energy to argue. He was feeling the tightness of the space he was trapped in. "Lenore said these walls turn to jelly."

"Which you jumped on. . ."

"Not what I meant. I wonder how long we have to wait for it to happen again." He turned to Lenore. "Do you know how often the walls change?"

She shook her head. "No. But it shimmers just before, like a ripple. The you can force your way through, but you have to do it quickly."

"Why?" Carson asked before thinking. He looked at the wall, imagining it loosening, then reforming, and winced. "Oh. Right then."

"So," Rodney sighed and took a seat, "we just have to wait for a shimmery thing."

Carson nodded. "It would seems so." He sat beside Rodney, across from Lenore. She stared at the floor, peeking up only on occasion.

It was going to be a long wait.


	3. Chapter 3

"Still no sign of them?" Weir entered her office with Sheppard, Ronon, and a small contingent of soldiers that made up the search party. It was strange having to send out a search and possible rescue on their own station, but the simple fact that no one had been able to locate the missing doctors for three hours sent all of her internal senses on full alert. "Are you certain they didn't leave the station?"

"There's been no gate activity for the past twelve hours. All jumpers are in the bay."

"I don't suppose they could have discovered another means of transportation?"

Sheppard snorted. "This is McKay. You honestly think he would make a discovery like that and keep it to himself?"

"I know, but I'm running out of ideas, Colonel!" She sat at her desk, her eyes pointed at him angrily. "Do you have any?"

"Well. . .no," the colonel admitted, "but they have to be on the station. There's no possible way they could have left without someone knowing."

Elizabeth sighed, and her voice took on a personal tone. "Keep searching. Apparently Rodney's last known location was his lab, maybe he was working on something that. . .I don't know. Did something to him."

"That wouldn't explain Carson's disappearance."

"Actually," one of the soldiers said, "it might. I saw Dr. Beckett leave the infirmary and head in the direction of science lab one, maybe he was going to see Dr. McKay?"

Sheppard's eyes met Elizabeth's. "Go," she said quietly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was another sound.

Lenore had jumped to her feet and run to the opposite side of the room, just as Rodney and Carson stood. All three flattened themselves to the wall, with Lenore unknowingly pressed back against Rodney. He knew it had to be unknowingly, because otherwise she would probably run towards the sound. She didn't seem to like him much.

The odd thumping continued, like someone dragging themselves along the floor. There was a cry of pain, and the wall rippled. A form emerged, dressed in fatigues. He rolled away from the wall and lay still, gasping for breath. There was another faint sound behind him.

Rodney pushed Lenore into Carson's side and hurried to the man, kneeling beside him. "I don't believe it." He looked up.

"My god," Carson muttered, joining Rodney. "It's Lt. Burkes." He felt the side of his neck, getting a rapid pulse. Dark eyes snapped open, and the man yelled out, scampering backwards into the wall behind him.

"Easy lad! Don't you know me?"

Burkes jerked his head from side to side, assessing the situation as his military mind trained him to do, following ingrained instinct. "No! Where am I?"

"You do know me, I treated you for a shoulder wound not three weeks ago. Look at me." He faced the scared young man, establishing eye contact.

Burkes calmed visibly. "Dr. Beckett?"

"Aye, son, there you go. Now just relax, you're not in any danger here."

"That's what you think," the young soldier muttered, swallowing hard and allowing his eyes to close again. It was obvious he was trying to come to terms with something, probably just being here.

"Excuse me, I know you've just got here, but you have any idea how to get back out?"

"Rodney!"

"Well, I'm sorry! There's a good chance he saw something that we didn't, and I'm just asking!"

"Let him get a grip, would ya!"

"Fine! He can get a grip! I'm glad that one of us can!" Rodney wrapped his arms around himself and backed away.

Carson patted Burkes' shoulder, giving him a moment to collect himself, and faced Rodney. A smart-ass comment was right on the tip of his tongue, but froze at the panic on his friend's face. "Are you all right?"

"No, of course I'm not all right! It's this room, it's. . ." he hugged himself tighter, looking lost, "does it seems smaller to you?"

Crap. He'd forgotten. Amongst McKay's long list of ills, claustrophobia was one of the tops. He crossed the small room and gripped Rodney's shoulder's tightly. "Look at me. The room is exactly the same size. Why don't you sit, put your head down on your knees. . ." he guided Rodney down, "that's it. . .now close your eyes. When you open them, you'll see. It isn't any smaller. There are just more people here." And judging from the slide-thump that had grown louder, there was about to be another.

"Who's that?" Burkes was looking at Lenore.

"A friend. She came in just as you did."

"She didn't come from Atlantis."

Carson waved for him to be quiet.

Lenore frowned, and stood from her defensive position. "There is no place here called Atlantis. Why do you say this?"

Burkes opened his mouth, but Carson cut him off. "It's stress. He didn't mean Atlantis, he meant, uh. . .you know. That other. . .big. . .place."

"You mean Ises?"

Carson blinked once. "Yeah. That would be the one."

"It doesn't sound anything like Atlantis."

"Funny that, isn't it?" Carson chuckled self-consciously, rubbing his ear, and pointed to Burkes. "Lenore, meet Burkes. Burkes, Lenore."

"Hello."

"Ma'am." Burkes tapped the bill of his cap in a typical southern, gentleman way. And jumped as the wall behind him shimmered.

Carson darted forward and pulled him out of the way just as two more bodies rolled in. Now the room was quite full. "Major Abrams! And. . ."

"That's Lt. Shaw. They were with me." Burkes crawled over to Shaw, who was curled in pain. "Hey, Matt! Matt! Easy man, calm down. You're okay now. We got out."

"'Bout damned time too," Abrams said, wincing and propping himself against the now solid wall. He frowned at the crowded room. "Dr. Beckett? Is that you?"

"I'm afraid so," Carson sighed, kneeling beside Shaw. "Excuse my asking in this manner, but how the bloody hell did you three get here?"

"Search me. All I know is we were walking down the hall and woke up in a dark room."

"You three were together?"

"That's right. Now where are we?"

"I don't know." Shaw was fine, and Carson approached Abrams. One look told him all he needed to know, and he backed off. "We haven't been here long ourselves." He glanced behind him.

Abrams followed the glance. "Is that Dr. McKay?"

"It is."

"What's he doing?"

"He's. . ." Carson glanced back at the doubled-over man, "he's thinking."

"Thinking. Because this is his fault, isn't it?" Abrams pushed himself to his feet. "You damned scientists, you can't leave well enough alone, can you? What did you do to us this time?"

Rodney had been surreptitiously surveying the new arrivals, vastly aware of the oxygen they were sucking in, his precious oxygen. He raised his head once more. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me! What the hell did you do?" Abrams crossed the room, yelling down at the seated man.

"He didn't do anything!" Carson yelled out, pushing Abrams away by the shoulder. "Now just . . ." his words ended in a whoosh of air as he banged into the wall behind him, his shirt fisted in Abram's hands.

"I suggest you stay out of this," he growled. Carson's eyes were wide, and caught a flash of movement as Lenore leapt onto the major's back, biting into his neck.

Abrams yelled and flung himself backwards. Rodney hurried to Carson while the other two soldiers tried to pull the crazed woman from the major. It took several minutes, but she was soon pinned to the floor, with Abrams looking on, rubbing his neck.

"Don't hurt her!" Carson pulled himself from Rodney and shoved the others away. "Good lord, man, she doesn't know you from Adam, she saw you attack me! She just reacted, now let her up!"

"And just who the hell is that?"

Carson sighed. "Lenore, meet Abrams. This is Shaw." He flung a hand towards the woman. "Lenore." He walked back to the area he considered his spot in the room, and sat. His head fell upon propped arms. He sensed a presence beside him, felt his head being moved slightly, and felt his jacket once again being pressed to his wound.

So that was why he was so dizzy.

Another presence filled the space to his left, and he heard paper tear. It was Lt. Matt Shaw, and he had pulled a bandage from his uniform pocket. The jacket pulled away, and the bandage was taped on, rather sloppily, but Carson wasn't complaining. "Thank you."

"How did you do that?"

"I honestly don't know."

"I don't either," Rodney said from Carson's side. He made no further movement to comfort his friend, only to sit right beside him. "I thought maybe when we landed in here he might have banged it, but there's no blood anywhere."

"Where's here?"

Rodney sighed. "I don't know. Why does everyone assume I should know where we are? I know no more than the attack alien bimbo from Mars over there." He flung a hand towards Lenore's direction, and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes.

"There has to be a way out of here," Abrams muttered, running his thick fingers along the wall.

"There isn't."

"You don't know that."

"Look, do you think I haven't tried?" Rodney snapped. "There is no visible way out. There is no visible way in, except for when the walls ripple. Which seems to happen only when someone comes in, I've yet to see a ripple that acts as an escape hatch!"

"We got in!"

Rodney shook his head in mild disbelief. "What did I just say?"

"What is Mars?" Lenore asked. She was looking more than a little disturbed.

Rodney set his head back against the wall with a thump.

"What you don't seem to understand," Abrams hissed, standing over Rodney, "is that I've lost a man already. If we stay here, we're dead. Don't you get that? Are you smart enough to get that, or does your survival instinct end with your last fucking cup of coffee?"

"Lost a man? What man? Who?" Rodney asked, squelching a sudden sense of panic. He stood as Abrams walked away. "What man did you lose?"

"Sgt. Martin Fields. Happy? Your little experiment killed a man!" He saw Rodney slump in apparent relief. "No, it wasn't your precious Colonel. I haven't seen him, I don't think he's here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney muttered.

"Oh, can the crap. We all know the two of you are thick as thieves. Probably enjoyed having to use community showers for the first part of our stay, or maybe even back at the SGC! Huh? You miss your shower buddy?"

"That's enough!" Carson bellowed, still sitting on the floor.

Stressed served Rodney well at times. He stood toe to toe with Abrams. "Listen. I don't know who you are, but I do know that your comments will have you on a ship back to earth for court martial faster than you can say Hail Mary. You got that?"

"Never took you for a religious man, doc." Abrams smirked and joined Shaw and Burkes on the floor. Military stared the doctors down. Only Lenore kept herself distant.

It was this level of distraction that caused her to notice the ripple.

She rose slowly, gathering the attention of the men, and walked to the wall, slowly putting her hand to it.

Into it.

The others watched.

Rodney finally joined her, and she didn't flinch. Instead she looked at him with impossibly large eyes. For her age, she seemed very youthful, like a frightened child. "I don't want to go in there."

"Why? What's in there?"

"I don't know. Don't make me go."

"No, of course not." Rodney looked back at Carson, his eyes drifting over the soldiers as he did so. Abrams rose to his feet and stomped over to him heavily.

"You going in?"

"I haven't decided yet." Rodney reached out and touched the wall. It shimmered and pulled away under his touch. "Your man. . .how did he die?"

"I don't know. We found him dead." His voice actually broke, a disconcerting sound in someone so large and aggressive.

"I guess it wasn't pretty."

"Death never is."

"Right." Rodney took a deep breath. "Look, we can't stay in here forever. There has to be a way out."

"No!" Lenore surprised him by grabbing his arm. "No. Don't go in there."

"We can't stay here. . ."

"Bad things happen out there. This is a safe room. Stay here."

"Safe room?" Rodney looked at the metal walls, at the people around him. He didn't want to imagine the stench once nature took its course. "I don't think so." He shoved his hand through the wall.

"Rodney?" Carson was on his feet and beside his friend. He searched the mobile face, seeing pain register. "Are you certain?"

"I'm not staying here," Rodney grunted, forcing his arm through up to his shoulder. "Are you?"

Carson looked back at the soldiers, who had climbed to their feet, and at Lenore, who looked scared enough to cry. "No. I'm coming with you."

"Let's go then. No telling when this thing will close back up." And he pushed through.


	4. Chapter 4

Sheppard had cleared the lab of all personnel. He wanted to be able to search through things without seeing the panicked looks in their eyes, he wanted to be able to move things without them hovering. At least McKay stayed where he was and just snapped for him to put things down. "Of course, if you stayed where you were supposed to be, I wouldn't be doing this!" He shuffled through the papers in front of Rodney's empty terminal, looking for a clue. Something. Anything to say what frame of mind he was in, what his precise thoughts were, if he had suddenly ventured off on a hunch. One this was certain, he had to be on the station. There had been no gate activity, and all jumpers were still accounted for. So unless he found some sort of alternate transportation system . . . his gaze fell onto an object on the floor, stopped against a table leg. A ball of some kind. He picked it up, tossed it in his hand, then placed it on the desk. And he sighed and continued his search.

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Carson followed Rodney into the wall, with Lenore's description ringing in his ears, 'jelly'. It was like jelly, some sort of gelatinous product that sucked on his limbs and weighed him down. It tried to enter his nose, causing him to constantly exhale forcefully. His ears clogged. The pressure abused his closed eyes, and there was no way he was going to open them. He wasn't sure he could. He'd gripped Rodney's shoulder as he entered right behind the man, but could no longer feel him. He heard nothing. It was like being swathed in sticky gel. It was total sensory depravation, except for touch. Every nerve ending was aware of the odd substance around him, and didn't like it a bit.

His arms were extended as far in front of him as possible. He could feel the area around him tighten, feel the molecules join and coalesce, and wondered if Rodney found the process as fascinating as he found it disturbing. He suddenly realized why.

The wall was reforming. And he was still inside.

Frantically he forced his legs forward, but they barely moved. He was stuck in a dream, one of those bloody dreams where he would try and try to run only to stand still. The pressure increased on his chest as his lungs tried to expand, to fill with depleting oxygen. Panic set in. He would suffocate. He was going to die, alone, in a wall. He was standing in his coffin.

Then there was a new sensation, wrapping around his hand, stinging warm and soft. Fingers.

One bone-shattering jerk had him down and gasping on the floor. He coughed until his lungs burned. He realized there was something soft half underneath him, and raised his head to find familiar blue eyes watching him closely. "Rodney?"

"You okay?" The voice was rough.

He had to think about it. "Yeah." He coughed. "You?"

"Kinda hard to breathe, actually."

"Might've gotten . . . some of that stuff . . . in your system. . ." Carson coughed.

"Not what I meant." One hand pushed at his shoulder.

"Oh!" Carson rolled off of Rodney, landing hard on his back. His arm wavered in the air for a moment before setting still beside him. And he just breathed.

The room was darker, and in the blackness, a small penlight flickered. Rodney had pushed up on his elbows, seeing who had made it through. He saw Abrams supporting a coughing Burkes, saw Shaw with Lenore. All accounted for.

He sighed and rolled over, right into a pair of hands and a distorted face, screaming in pain. "FUCK!"

He scrambled back, pulling Carson along with him. The others followed his pointed finger. "Well, I'll be damned," Burkes muttered calmly. Then he rolled over and vomited.

"Oh good, that's it, contaminate our room," Rodney responded in disgust. "'cause I'm just dying to go through a wall again." He regretted the words as soon as he said it, especially when Lenore was coherent enough to take in the sight. She gave a sudden scream and buried her head in Shaw's shoulder.

"Whoever it is, he didn't make it through," Shaw muttered.

"Well, part of him did," Rodney said. His features were twisted in distaste. His light swept over the face of one who had died slowly, horribly, crushed to death half within the wall. Two other lights cast beams toward the grotesque sight.

His eyes were wide and unfocused. His hands reached out desperately, fingers curled around a friend's hand, now gone. Black blood coated his open mouth.

Carson said nothing, just remembered the crushing, suffocating feeling of the walls closing in around him. It was the ultimate form of claustrophobia, and he prayed Rodney would never experience it. "So now what do we do?" he asked quietly.

Three beams swept the room. "This room is just like the other, except. . ." there was a panel, and of course Rodney was drawn to it with a magnetic pull. He popped open the door, his light fixed firmly between his teeth. He spat it into his palm and aimed the beam inside. "I don't believe it!"

"What?"

"It's empty! Who'd fix up an empty panel?"

"Maybe it's been gutted," Shaw offered.

"No, there isn't any evidence that anything was ever here. No wires, no fixtures, nothing. No holes, no marks. This thing's as clean as the room we just left." Rodney frowned. "Except for this." He ran his finger over a small lever that angled from the lower corner.

Carson looked over his shoulder. "What the . . . what is that?"

"By all descriptions, and I could be guessing here . . . I think it's some sort of lever."

"Rodney," Carson warned.

"Well, see if you can ask a ridiculous question next time, huh?" he snapped.

"I mean, what does it do?"

Rodney's light fell to his side in disbelief. He rolled his eyes in the faint glow. "See previous statement." He raised the light again, fisting it anxiously.

"No, don't! Please." Lenore was at his side, pushing past Carson. "We need to go back, you don't understand."

"Apparently you do." He shone his light into her eyes, making her blink and step back. "Just what do you know that you're not telling us, huh?"

She raised a hand to protect herself from the sharp glare. "Oh, just find out for yourself," she muttered, retreating to the far wall.

"Oh, that's very helpful," Rodney replied, and flipped the switch.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a portion of the wall behind them slid open.

The group stared at it, when they weren't glancing at each other in uncertainty. Carson took a step forward, stopping at Rodney's restraining grip. He was looking at Shaw, who was closest, and was edging his way to the opening.

It was about four feet by four, and a good eight feet off the floor; a square hole, leading into blackness. Shaw snapped his fingers, and caught the light that Burkes tossed to him. "Give me a hand," he said to the other soldier. Burkes threaded his fingers together and boosted Shaw into the opening, providing a stable base while the man looked around. "Seems empty," he said. "Just like this room, but pitch black."

"Let me see." Abrams shoved them aside, ignoring the fact that he nearly spilled Shaw to the floor, and hoisted himself up, balancing on the ledge. His light cut through the dark. "Nope. Nothing here." He turned back, and his expression peeled back in horror. "Beckett, watch yourself!"

Carson had no time to turn around. He felt the grip behind him, felt himself being sucked to the wall he was leaning against. He saw the fright on Rodney's face, saw the man dart forward to grab him, but knew it was useless. He saw his own arms fling out, the distorted faces around him being covered by the metallic sheen of the wall as it swallowed him whole, closing in around him. His mouth gaped, and he managed to gasp, "Rodney. . ."

"FUCK!" Rodney's screech brought him to focus, and he felt his friend's hands tear at his arms, nearly yanking the joints from their sockets. The force behind him increased, pulling his breath out through his spinal column. The people before him faded, covered in film as the wall tried to close.

But Rodney wasn't having any. He threw himself half in, his features suddenly becoming clearer. He wrapped both arms around Carson's body, yelling over his shoulder for them to pull him back. There was a mighty rip, a suction, and Carson spilled over, landing hard on top of someone and not caring in the least. He rolled over and rapidly crawled away from the wall, gasping for air, clawing at his burning throat.

Rodney was beside him in a heartbeat, pulling his hands away, panicked. "What – what, what? Carson, what is it, what's wrong?" But all he could do was claw at his throat. His mouth opened, and blood bubbled out.

"Shit! Oh . . . oh god, oh . . . god . . . " Rodney had no clue what to do. His eyes darted around the room, looking desperately for an answer to appear out of thin air. The others were backing away in fear. "Don't just stand there . . . fuck! Help me!" He turned back to the stricken man. "Help me, what do I do, what . . . dammit!"

Carson managed to cough, and a clot landed on the floor before him. He fought for a strangled breath, blinking rapidly, and caught hold of Rodney's arm. "S . . . okay," he rasped painfully.

"Okay?" Rodney squeaked. "You think this is okay?" He felt ready to faint, but was determined to stay conscious for his friend's sake.

Carson swallowed and leaned back, then continued to gasp for breath, though the pain was easing. Lenore tore at the bottom of her shirt, pressing the cloth to Carson's mouth as the coughing started again. It eased with no further incident.

He wiped at his mouth. There was no blood. Checked the torn shirt. Again, no blood. And nothing on the floor.

Rodney was frowning, the corners of his mouth turned down at a near impossible angle as he slowly backed away. "What the hell?"

Carson just looked at him, amazed, and studied his hand. "I-I don't know. Felt like someone was pulling my lungs out of my back."

"But . . . you're okay."

"Yes, I'm fine." He sounded astonished. Rightfully so.

Abrams was shaking his head. "Shit no. No, that ain't right. That ain't normal." He turned to Rodney. "What kind of devil place have you landed us in?"

"Why is it always me?"

"Because you can't keep your curiosity to yourself, that's why!"

Rodney hrmphed and turned away. "Here we go again. When confronted with something you military types can't understand, you either look to us for a solution or blame us for your ignorance. Either way it's a loss."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Rodney pointed. "See?"

"Oh, can it, you two." Carson pushed himself from the floor, feeling like he'd just had his innards pulled like taffy. "Is that hole a way out?" He started to brace himself on the wall, and stood in the center of the room instead.

Shaw shook his head. "Not really. But then we thought this room was empty too."

"Obviously not empty," Rodney said, "but still . . . disturbing."

"So one of us should go through."

They studied each other. No one moved.

"I'll go in," Shaw nodded with a smile. "Hell, I always wanted to be in some sort of sci-fi flick."

"Son," Carson said slowly, still doubled over, "we live in a sci-fi flick, or hadn't you noticed? You needn't go barging in to prove yourself."

"Immature testosterone," Rodney muttered.

Shaw just smirked and threw himself onto the ledge, hesitating as he peered in, and landing with a soft thump on the floor.

For a group that had been hesitant to watch, they moved fast to see the result of Shaw's bravery. His light shone around the empty room as he circles several meters below them. "Looks clear," he yelled up. "Bigger, but nothing to see, no visible way out." He crossed to the opposite side to examine the wall as his echo lingered.

"Hey Matt, be careful, huh?" Lt. Burkes was hovering on the lip of the opening, swinging his legs over the side. "You need some help?"

"You kidding?" The light swung again. "Ain't nothing here!"

"Maybe there's a trigger on this side, I'm gonna double check." Burkes swung back, and started to examine the walls.

"Trigger for what?" Carson asked, eyeing the opening suspiciously.

"I don't know," Burkes shrugged. "Just thought I'd check."

"Like we haven't already." Rodney sighed and re-examined the control panel he'd found. "Couldn't hurt, I suppose, though I get the feeling that. . ."

"Dude!" Burkes had joined Rodney, and pointed to a new light inside the panel. "Look at this!"

Rodney turned to Carson in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did he seriously just call me _dude_?"

"I mean - I mean Dr. McKay, you might want to. . ." he pointed again and stepped back.

The soldier's sudden enthusiasm had been followed by an abrupt squelch that reminded Rodney rather wistfully of Lt. Ford. Must be a trait among the young, he thought, and eyed the light that suddenly started to flash. "What the. . ."

"Hey guys, I think something's happening in here," Shaw's voice echoed. "I hear something."

Burkes crossed the space and shone his light inside the second room, as did Major Abrams, who had remained quiet despite his earlier bravado. "I don't see anything, Matt. You sure?"

"Yeah." The young man flipped his beam around. The noise was steady, not overly loud. "Sounds like a mechanism. Maybe a door?"

"Then wouldn't it be opening?" Carson stood on tip toe to peer between the men. "That's a lot of racket for no motion."

Shaw shook his head. "No. . .there's something's going on. I can feel it."

Rodney remained on the opposite side of the room at the panel, staring at the light and wondering at the sudden pinch of unease in his gut. A very faint breeze tickled the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Funny, the air had been still. . . "You guys feel that?" he asked, turning.

"What?" Abrams sounded tired and annoyed.

"The air. It moved, and if it moved, then something moved it."

"Sure you ain't just blowing gas?" Rodney pinned Abrams with a stare as Burkes interrupted.

"No, no, he's right, I thought I felt a breeze or something," he muttered, and held his hand to the opening. A moment later he felt it again, and noticed the shadow thrown by a light change. That wasn't right. . ."Doctor McKay. . ."

"Waitaminute, I. . .oh shit. SHIT!" Rodney suddenly spun and darted across the small space. He grabbed a light and forced himself onto the thin ledge, pushing past the men who now supported him.

"Rodney! What the hell are you doing?" Carson grabbed him around the waist as he leaned in recklessly. "You'll land on your head!"

But Rodney didn't have time to answer. His light shone upwards, and he shrieked as the ceiling knocked it from his hands, nearly taking him with it. He felt hands grab his legs as he tilted forward. "SHAW! Get your ass out of there!" Even then it took a moment for the action to sink in.

Then everyone moved at once.

Carson had grabbed the waist of Rodney's pants in a panic when he saw his friend pitch forward. Now he pulled Rodney back just before the descending ceiling took off his head. Even so, he tried to reach back through the hole as did everyone else, and saw Lt Matt Shaw's fingers grip the edge.

"Get me out!" A hand appeared, and frantic eyes before the ceiling closed them off.

"Matt!" Burkes had his palms flat against the forming wall, trying to push it back. "Matt!"

"Oh god!"

"Shit . . . MATT! Oh . . .FUCK!"

Carson had landed on the floor without knowing how he got there, felt Rodney lean against him and away from the terror before them. He had heard Matt's screams, heard Abrams' shout as he held on to the arm that grabbed at help through the hole, heard Burkes' frantic cry, and saw the shadow close the gap, tearing the arm as it passed. The damped scream of pain could be heard, the desperate yells as the ceiling descended, the final terrified shriek that suddenly stilled. And all that remained was a bloody stump pooling on the floor, stringy with torn flesh.

"Oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck! Matt? MATT!" Burkes threw himself at the opening, punching at the metal wall that now closed off the other room. "MATT! You shit, answer me!" His fists were bloodied. "Open this damn thing, get him out of there! Get him out!"

Abrams grabbed the younger man by the waist, dragging him kicking and screaming to the other side of the room, forcing him to sit still in a corner. His hands steadied the man's shoulders as the sobs came, and he buried his head.

Rodney was standing, motionless, staring at the bloodied stump. Lenore was watching as always, her large eyes taking in every motion, every action. And this time she didn't move when Abrams took out his rage. It was aimed at the only thing he could reasonably blame, and at the moment that was Dr. McKay.

"You," he said in a low voice, standing and crossing the room, "you knew this would happen. You could have stopped this."

"What?" Rodney was already backing away, not liking the madness in the man's eyes. "Are you insane?"

"You knew this would happen, and now another one of my men is dead! How should you answer for that, huh?" He stood nose to nose with Rodney, staring him down, sensing his fear. But the physicist held his ground, and at any other time, _any_ other time, Abrams would have liked that. It was true he did hold a rather begrudging admiration for the man, but not because of his brains. He liked that McKay didn't feel the need to prove himself to anyone. He had the arrogance of a commanding officer. But that didn't excuse him, no sir. "Do you have any idea, mister, what it feels like to lose one of your men? Huh?" He snatched Rodney's shirt in his fists and plastered him to the wall, staring him down, then turned him and shoved him away before slowly advancing on him once again. "Do you?" His rage stemmed from much more than loss.

Unfortunately, he hadn't realized what a sore subject he had tapped into. Rodney's eyes changed, and he leaned in. "Yes," he spat, "I know exactly how it feels! You aren't the only one to have lost men around here, so don't even start with me! You assholes are at least trained to accept it, the rest of us have to swallow it and go on!" And he did swallow, hard.

Abrams' eyes narrowed as he shoved his face towards Rodney's. "You calling me heartless?"

"I'm saying I've lost people too, good scientists who didn't stand a chance. They weren't supposed to die. A soldier knows the risks, at least he's prepared!"

Screw McKay saying what he thought. Screw him. "You slimy piece of shit . . ." he ran at Rodney, pushing him to the ground, and knelt on him, growling as he felt hands on his back.

"All right, that's enough!" Carson grabbed Abrams' jacket. There was no way he would let this continue, not this constant abuse toward his friend. But he wasn't expecting the consequence of his interference.

The fist that connected with his jaw was like an iron club shattering stone. Carson fell onto his back, shocked by intense pain, and felt a great weight crushing his chest. He heard his name called in fear, saw a shadow over the bulk that pressed down on him, and was aware of a second set of hands being shoved away. His head snapped to the side as that iron fist connected again, and again, each strike loosening any resolve he had to stay conscious. He could feel the blood, could feel the major rock back and forth over him with each blow, could hear Rodney's rage and see hints of the man trying to help him. But his head hurt too much, his neck ached, his ribs were crushed, he was certain of it. His hands were useless in blocking the blows, and he suddenly wasn't sure just where they were. A staggered breath choked him as thick fluid filled his throat, the metallic sting just below his nostrils.

The weight shifted then fell from him. Carson gasped for air, his hand closing around his throat protectively as he rolled to his side to see Rodney shoving Abrams to the wall, his face red with exertion and anger. Abrams turned away as Burkes merely looked at him, his face lined with wet tracks, with Lenore at his side.

Rodney slowly helped Carson sit up. Between the earlier gash and the beating . . . "You know, you've looked better. Not saying you ever looked great, but . . ." his breath caught as Carson tried to keel over, "shit . . . nonono, okay look, lay here. Just . . . just relax." Carson closed his eyes with a nod.

Rodney swallowed hard and caught his breath, then turned back to Abrams. "Listen. If we're going to get out of this, we have to work together. You got that?" He wasn't expecting a response, which was just as well, because he wasn't disappointed. Abrams stood his ground, fuming, but made no advance. Rodney eyed Burkes and Lenore, then turned his attention back to his friend.

Carson was pitching sideways. He couldn't sit up properly, and Rodney didn't like that. The confusion on Carson's face revealed head trauma, and he had no clue what to do about it.

That was when the room tilted. Literally.


	5. Chapter 5

"Radek!" Sheppard jogged after the scientist who, like most of the scientist on the station, had his attention stolen by the portable data pad. His head jerked up as the colonel grabbed his shoulder.

"Colonel!" he gasped. "You startled me!"

"One of these days you're going to keep walking and end up lecturing the sharks." He let his hand drop from Radek's shoulder, planting himself in front of the smaller man so that he couldn't continue his journey toward the stained glass window.

"McKay lectures. I merely inform people of the facts." His head bent back over his work as he turned to continue walking.

"And do you have any new facts as to the whereabouts of our esteemed friend?"

Radek didn't look up. "No. Not really."

Sheppard walked alongside him, his lips tight in frustration. "Yeah." He popped one fist into the palm of his other hand and stopped.

"Perhaps you should check his quarters again. I know he has been very tired lately and . . ."

"He's not in his quarters, he's not in the lab, dammit he's not anywhere! And neither is Beckett, and right now I'm worried that both of them took an unscheduled swim!"

Radek frowned, eyeing him from several paces further down the corridor. "You don't believe that."

Sheppard sighed. "No, of course not, but what else can I think?"

"You are still checking the city?"

"There's no where else to check. But I'm telling you, I don't think they're here."

Radek started walking again. He looked back when he noticed Sheppard wasn't following him. "Come. I'll show you what he has been working on, maybe it will give us a clue."

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"I say we let Mr. Science here go this time," Abrams said.

They had fallen to the side, and all were eying the opening right above them. Had been for quite some time.

"Shouldn't we just stay where we are?" Rodney asked hesitantly, but Abrams' pointed look was all the incentive he needed. "Fine, I'll go." He schooled his face, preparing himself, and was stopped by a low voice.

"Rodney, no, wait. I'll go." Carson was on his feet, weaving slightly.

Rodney couldn't even answer, not for several moments. He slowly turned to face Carson, slowly walked over to him. "Are you nuts?" Even his question sound slow, dragged out by disbelief. His eyes pinpointed the bandage on Carson's head, stained with blood.

"No more so than you." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, continuing in a stronger voice, "You have a better chance of getting us out of here, we can't risk anything bad happening. Now move and let me through."

"Whereas losing our only medical doctor is a grand idea! No way am I letting you go. That dipshit, " he pointed at Abrams, "he can go."

"He's our protection."

Rodney leaned in privately. "Against what? HUH? What the hell good is he?" His question was forced under his breath, but not low enough, and he saw Abrams bristle.

"Rodney," Carson replied softly, "I have to go sometime. It may as well be now." He looked to the major, who nodded and threaded his fingers, ready to give Carson a boost.

"But your head . . ."

"All the more reason to go now. I may not be able to later."

"All the more reason to stay here!" But Carson pushed past him.

Rodney passed alongside Abrams on his way to the far wall, locking gazes with a man twice his girth. "You are an ass."

"Let the man make his own decisions, will ya?" Abrams grunted as he pushed Carson up. His muscles bulged under the strain, and his breathing seemed to stop as he steadied himself. His violent eyes were fixed on Rodney, using him as a focal point.

Carson reached up through the opening and propped his arms on the ledge, eyeing the room he was about to enter. He glanced down. "Give me something to toss in there."

"What about this?" Burkes quickly dug around in his vest and pulled out a powerbar.

"Wait!" Rodney snatched it away and eyed the wrapper before handing it back. "Forget it. This flavor deserves to be sacrificed."

The bar was passed up, and flung in. They waited.

"Well?" Abrams pressed as he shifted slightly. "You ain't getting any lighter."

"Problem, big man?" Rodney asked. "This was your idea, remember. He could be holding you up."

"He's too heavy," Carson said, glancing down at them once again. "I think it's okay," Rodney gave a reluctant nod, and Carson pulled himself up into the room.

The new room seemed sharper to him. The faint light from below cut the room into angles that shouldn't have been possible, not within the curves of the wall. The light that filtered through the opening slashed across the floor and rose vertically in a thick stripe. The line shifted as Abrams poked his head in, held up by Burkes. "Well?" he asked again.

"Seems well enough," Carson said, then paused as he heard a click.

Rodney heard it too, from below. "Carson . . ." he called up.

"Shhh."

The men below him froze. Behind them, Lenore backed into a corner.

Rodney tapped Abrams' leg, as he propped on Burke's shoulders. "Lemme up there."

"You can wait!"

"If you want to know what's going on I need to be able to see, now get down!"

Abrams scowled, but held on to the edge of the opening as Burkes moved from under him. The poor man looked relieved to be rid of the weight. Abrams dropped heavily to the floor, and braced himself against the wall. "Whatever you say," he muttered with as much disrespect as he could cram into three words. His eyes glinted in amusement at Rodney's hesitation. "Come on, don't be so pussy whipped!"

"Excuse me?" There was another click, this one louder.

Rodney winced against his fortune. "I must have a death wish. That's it." He rubbed his hands together, and grabbed Abrams' arm. One boot braced itself on the major's bent knee, and he pressed his hand against the wall, awkwardly managing to swing himself onto the major's shoulders.

"Christ, McKay," Abrams' grunted as he cautiously maneuvered himself underneath the hole. "You eat hippos for breakfast everyday?"

"Oh, just shut the hell up and be still, for Christ's sake!" Rodney snapped as his hands slapped against the ceiling for support. He was maneuvered underneath the hole, peered in, and watched in horror as Carson slowly walked to the center of the room. "Wh-what are you doing? Carson!"

Carson was turning slowly, his eyes following his flashlight. "If something happens, I want to see it coming. I can't see beside the wall."

"There's nothing to see!" And below him, a whirring sound pierced the air. Carson's light found Rodney's face right as Rodney looked down in panic.

Panels in the walls shot open, shooting long spear-like needles across the room. There was a yell, and Rodney felt nothing but air beneath him. He landed hard on his back right as a needle whizzed over his head, imbedding itself into Abrams' arm. The man yelled out, more in anger than in pain, and pulled it out.

Carson was leaning in from the opening. "Get up here!" he roared as he reached out for them. "The trap is in there, get up here now!" More panels opened, and his panicked eyes instantly noted their position, and his friend's. "Rodney, get down!"

Once again Rodney hit the deck, bringing Abrams down with him. Lenore was curled in a corner, screaming into arms wrapped protectively around her head. And Burkes had chosen that exact moment to jump for Carson's grip.

The needle shot out of the wall like a cannon projectile. It caught him through the upper right side of his chest, impaling him against the wall. Three more jutted out of his abdomen.

"Burkes!" Abrams barreled across the small room, pulling at the needles that wouldn't budge. The dark eyes that looked back were teary, scared, and fading.

Rodney wasted no time in grabbing Lenore's hand "Major! Get her up there!" He shoved the woman at him. He complied, despite the pain in his arm, his eyes never leaving his younger companion trapped against the wall, his body going limp.

Carson caught hold of her and pulled, rolling her to the floor beside him. He was back at the hole in an instant. "Rodney! Abrams!"

"Just a minute!" Carson heard Rodney and cursed, fighting off the woman who tried to pull him away from the danger. He could see his friend gripping the needle that impaled Burkes.

"There's nothing to hold on to!" Rodney's voice was high with panic. To the other side of him, Abrams was digging in the only pack that was left to them. He pulled out a large knife.

"I'm coming down!"

"No! Stay right where you are!" Rodney's voice was unnaturally stern, breaking with fear. Carson stared to swing his legs through the opening when Lenore set on him with a yell, dragging him back and holding him down. He fought back, but couldn't see enough to fend off her rather clever attacks.

"Move it!" Abrams pushed Rodney aside and grabbed the needle with his left hand, his other poised to strike a blow with the knife.

Rodney grabbed his wrist. "That'll never work, are you crazy?" He was shoved back, and jerked away from the yell that Burkes gave when the large knife swung down to slice the needle. The vibration jolted through the tormented man, and the whirring sound was heard again.

"Rodney!" This time Abrams sounded almost panicked.

"I hear it!"

"Go," Burkes muttered, blood streaming from his mouth. "Just . . ."seemingly from nowhere another needle pierced his chest. One more caught Abrams in the back.

"Gah – Dammit!" Abrams reached behind him as Rodney grabbed him and shoved him underneath the opening.

"Get up there!"

"No . . ."

"There's no time for this, now go!" He threaded his fingers together for a foothold, standing beside the wall.

It took a lot of struggling and cursing, but Abrams managed to climb onto Rodney's shoulders. He growled with effort as he unsteadily walked underneath the hole, grimacing at the weight and the yell of pain as Lenore and Carson reached through for him. Rodney sighed and slumped as the weight was lifted, and ducked as the sound started again.

"Rodney! Come on!" Carson was reaching for him.

But there was a problem. "How?" Rodney just stared up at him. "I can't make it up there!"

"Rodney, you can, just come on!" He leaned forward as far as he could.

"How?" The question was a squeak.

"I don't know, just . . .come on! Jump up or something, I'll grab hold of you!"

"There's no time." Rodney's eyes widened as he took in a view that only he could see.

"Rodney? No . . . nonono come on! _Come on_, damn you!"

There was a hiss, and the door shut between them.


	6. Chapter 6

"This is it? This is a bocce ball." Sheppard tossed the small orb in his hand. "I've seen this. What does it do?"

"That I do not know, but I have been analyzing the data." He plugged his datapad into the larger screen on the desk and swivelled it to face them. "We have yet to figure out exactly what this object does, but I believe there was some sort of energy burst in the lab right around the time that Drs. Beckett and McKay were reported missing." He pointed. "Right here. You see?"

"Yeah, I see it. But I don't understand it. What kind of energy are we talking about?"

"I do not know. I've not been able to replicate the readings."

"So . . . we can assume this surge is responsible for their disappearance?"

"Not sure. It could be coincidence. But this was the last project that Rodney was fixated on. He would not leave the lab, he wanted to be beside this thing all the time." Radek sighed. "All I wanted was some quiet, but no. He talks as he works like one talks in his sleep. And makes about as much sense." Radek abruptly pointed to a desk in the corner. "I moved my station over there until he sorts this out."

"As it stands, you're the one who has to sort this out, especially if this burst has anything to do with their disappearance."

"That's what I am afraid of. This thing might suck me right in as it did Rodney, and I'll not be able to escape it. I have other projects, I hate to interfere with this one."

Sheppard stared. "Even if his life is on the line?"

"He has been gone only four hours! Granted, that is very odd. But I still see no reason to panic."

"It's been over eight hours, and I can't believe you're fighting me on this!"

Radek stared at the screen. He exhaled and removed his glasses, and action which always caused Sheppard to marvel at the physical difference the lenses made. Radek's features softened as he spoke. "I did not realize. I am sorry. I apologize. What you say is correct, and we should be concerned."

It was too odd, even for Radek, whom Sheppard always pictured as a bit eccentric. "What happened?"

"We had an argument. Not uncommon, but this time was bad. I don't even know what we fought about, but I nearly hit him, and I am certain he felt the same. I stormed out." Radek gave his head a sorrowful shake. "I don't want to believe he is now missing."

Sheppard straightened and patted Radek's shoulder. "Best thing you can do for him now, is help find him."

"What if he does not want to be found?"

"You think Beckett doesn't want to be found?"

"I don't know! Maybe they talk. Maybe they want privacy."

"For eight hours? Besides, they would still answer their radios."

"That is true." Radek replaced his glasses and stared regretfully at the orb. "There really is something wrong, then."

Sheppard leaned in once again. "I need answers, Radek." He made no attempts at persuasion.

And Radek merely nodded.

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"Son of a bitch!" Carson rubbed his hands over the door, searching desperately for a crevice, anything he could jut his fingertips into and pry, but the surface was solid, like nothing had ever been there. He rounded on the people behind him. "Don't the lot of you just sit there, help me!" He gritted his teeth and tried pressing his fingers into the wall. But there was no budging something that didn't exist, and Rodney didn't answer his frantic calls. After some time, his voice hoarse with yelling, all he could do was back away. "Oh my god," he whispered, leaning dejectedly against the wall. "This – this isn't happening . . . that didn't just happen."

"Dr. Beckett . . ."

"God, he's . . ."

"Doctor Beckett!"

"What?" Carson's attention snapped.

"I'm sorry." The man grunted and visibly repressed a yell as Lenore pulled the long needle from his back.

_Sorry? Did he just say_ . . . Carson finally turned a disbelieving face to Abrams. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said I'm sorry. I know the two of you were friends."

Carson slowly stood, pressing his back against the wall. "What the hell?"

"You know, I do believe he was right." He was staring at the wall, almost reflective, his voice almost too contemplative. "We soldiers do know how to handle death, because right now I don't feel a god damned thing for him."

It was a staged comment. Heat flooded Carson's face. "And just what the hell do you mean by that?" He forced out his question in a measure of calm, but there was no way, _no way_, he was going to allow anyone to talk about a man's death in that manner. Of course it could be shock. It had better be shock.

"Don't get me wrong, I liked him well enough. I guess. Just seems a waste, that's all."

Carson's voice was low. "A waste. You do realize he was our best chance to get out of this hell."

"Yeah, that's what I mean by waste." Abrams' face was tight with pain.

Carson took a step forward, and was stopped by Lenore's hand on his chest. "Let it go," she said softly. "He needs help right now. Remember, he lost two of his men."

Her focus surprised him, and brought him back. He walked over to Abrams, his footfalls sounding hollow in the small room. The back wound was raw, leaving Carson to wonder if the seemingly slick needles were actually barbed in some way. He tore the bottom of Abrams' shirt and handed the cloth to Lenore. "Hold this to the wound." He pressed it into her hand as she hesitated, and picked up the needle for further examination. A prick, and he looked at his finger. "I thought these were smooth."

"Some were," Abrams gritted through Lenore's pressure, "the ones that shot out first were, I guess."

Carson dropped the needle to the floor, fighting the vulgar images intruding his mind. With a conscious, careful touch, he took over the ministration from Lenore. "I'm . . . sorry about your men."

Abrams merely nodded. His face was set in stone.

"I'm sorry for all of them," Lenore said softly.

Carson looked over his shoulder at her, filling with sudden anger and trying his hardest to choke it back. "You've been keeping quiet, love," he said, his voice forced, "and I'm certain you're the only one who knows what's going on. I really, really wish you would tell us."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"Can't or won't? Dammit, have you not seen these deaths? Or are you like Mr. Machismo here, and truly don't give a bloody damn?" The room tilted without warning, and he crashed to the floor.

Apparently this time it was just him, and not the room itself. He stared up at his companions as they bent over him, Lenore resting her hand on his forehead, avoiding the gash, and Abrams just looking on like a curious spectator. "Why needles?" he asked Carson.

His head was spinning. "_What_?"

"Seems if this were a death trap they'd use something other than long needles. Something like swords or . . . I don't know. Something."

Carson's brow furrowed as he tried to focus. What Abrams said made sense, seemed there would be a more efficient weapon, yet the needles seemed as effective a killing weapon as anything. The room spun again, and he knew for a fact he hadn't moved. "Needles," he said. "I used to be deathly afraid of them."

"And so you became a doc?" Abrams asked sarcastically.

Carson managed to level a glare at him, or rather, where he should have been. "Not really. It's not like I have to inject myself."

Abrams just snorted.

Lenore, as usual, ignored the circumstances surrounding her and focused her attention on the doctor. She took Carson's hand in her own. "I am sorry for the other two," she said softly, "but I do not include your Rodney with them."

"Why, love?" he asked softly. She was rather lovely in a motherly, consoling kind of way. She was also blurry. He hurt, everything hurt, and the fight was gone from him.

"I do not believe he is dead. I believe he got out."

A wry smile managed to break through Carson's despair as he croaked out a laugh. "Oh, my dear, I do hope you're right."

He managed to hold onto the smile for only a moment more before his face fell, and his body gave in.


	7. Chapter 7

"Elizabeth, I think we have something." Sheppard bounded into her office without knocking. In fact, he almost entered without using the door, and as a result caught his shoulder on the edge as it opened too slowly for his frantic pace.

"What is it?" She looked startled at the sudden intrusion, but not angry. Anything but angry. Her hands pushed away the document without so much as a glance toward it, her attention was riveted to the colonel.

He slapped a notebook onto her desk. "Read this."

The writing on the crisp sheet was in Rodney's almost unintelligible scrawl. She winced at it for a moment, deciphering the script, and finally fell into a reading rhythm as she mentally adjusted to his scribble. Her head cocked slightly in curious puzzlement, and she started to read aloud.

"Ancient judgement device . . . possible they were trying to come up with a way to test the subject for qualities of ascension? What is this?"

"This was shoved in a neat pile underneath Rodney's desk." Sheppard took a seat across from her. "Radek said he would see Rodney writing in a notebook while studying this orb . . ."

"Orb? What orb?"

"The orb that Radek is bringing up. We're wondering if this has something to do with Rodney and Carson's disappearance."

One word caught her eye. "Surely . . . you're not saying they . . ." she subtly pointed upwards.

Sheppard's eyes followed her gesture before his mind did. "No. NO! No, I don't think they've ascended. I mean, you have to die first, from what I understand." He stopped and pressed his lips together, his brows drawn together as he matched her gaze.

That was something he hadn't considered.

Radek burst into the room with as much energy as Sheppard had. "Here, I have it." He carefully placed a stand on the desk, and tucked the small orb into it. "This is what he has been studying. Would not let me touch the thing. And there is something else." He produced the datapad which had been tucked beneath his arm. "Remember I said something about an energy burst? There was one, and it was in the lab shortly after the time Carson was reported to have left the infirmary. The precise spot has been pinpointed . . ." he pulled up a schematic of the lab, "there."

"Rodney's desk?"

"Yes."

"You can pinpoint that?"

"It was a very short burst, and very intense. It was easy to find. You said you found this orb on the floor when you first searched the lab?"

"That's right."

"Watch." Radek pulled out a metal wand-looking device and plugged it into a small adapter. The adapter he plugged into the data pad. "See this?" He waved the wand slowly over the orb, and the lines on the pad spiked. "There is a large amount of energy contained within. It is like this orb is powered on."

"And doing what?" Elizabeth asked. "Is it a transporter of some kind?"

Sheppard shook his head. "There's no sign of them anywhere on the station, no readings, nothing."

"It could have transported them elsewhere," Radek said, turning off the wand and thumping it against his hand.

"Is there a way to test this?"

"If I knew how to activate this device, maybe. But Rodney left no notes, just fairy tales." He pointed to the notebook in Elizabeth's hands. "For all I know the burst was a random thing, not a result of a direct action."

"Meaning it could happen at any time?" Elizabeth eyed the orb.

"I . . . uh, yes." Radek pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his wide eyes. "I had not thought of that."

Sheppard waited, then asked patiently, "Then shouldn't you get that thing out of here?"

"What? Oh, yes. Yes, I probably should." He tucked the wand into his jacket pocket and carefully lifted the orb, and the stand, shoving the pad back beneath his arm.

"I want to know as soon as you figure out how to test your theory," Elizabeth said. "In the meantime, I want every available team out and searching."

"I have a rotation started," Sheppard said. "There are plenty of places we haven't covered. Of course they are places we haven't fully explored as of yet."

"That doesn't mean they aren't there."

Sheppard acquiesced.

She nodded.

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The room was silent. Lenore sat in a corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her body rocking back and forth in distress. Abrams was dozing.

Carson stared at nothing. There was nothing to stare at, and what was worse, there was no one to talk to. Lenore had retreated back into herself, and Abrams was . . . well, Rodney said it best when the phrase 'useless' slipped out. For a military man, especially one of his stature, he really was a helpful as a sunken log.

His head throbbed. And the pain in his chest would not go away.

Rodney was resourceful. He was fine. The man was a genius, after all, but genius was nothing without some sort of catalyst and something to work with. Trapped in a bare room with needles shooting out of the wall didn't really present an occasion for his skills to come into use, not unless he somehow pulled a needle out of the wall and started playing baseball with the deadly projectiles. Rodney wasn't a baseball man.

And the image made Carson laugh, showing how desperate he was to believe his friend was okay.

There was a twitch, and a grunt from the other side of the room. Abrams shifted his position, his head lulling to the side. Lenore glanced at him, then found the spot on the floor she had been staring at for so long. How long? Hours, it seemed, though there was no way to tell. According to his watch, they had been gone for nearly twelve hours, but that could very well be meaningless in a place like this. It sure seemed meaningless, where the hours stretched like days. A day could easily be a year. A week, a lifetime.

Lenore was suddenly watching him, her dark eyes glinting in the faint light. He had yet to figure out exactly how the rooms were lit, but each one was, just barely, and each was a different hue. This room was a faint, sickly green, almost yellow, reminding him of sickness and disease. It floated just over the grey walls and left him feeling lethargic. Lenore's face was drawn, as though suffering from an unspeakable illness. The skin underneath her eyes was black, her skin tone was pale and deathly. Carson reached for her, noting how his arm looked too thin in the odd light. "Come here."

She didn't move, not for a moment, then managed to slowly crawl towards him. She was emotionally strung out. They all were. Too much happened in too short a space, and there was no way to escape it. The phrase kept crossing his mind, 'who's next, who's next?'. And he pulled her to him, finding comfort in the sense of presence she held earlier, keeping that image firmly in mind.

"I want you to think back for me," he said softly. "I know it's hard, but I want you to try and remember how you got here." His voice was drawn out, like taffy.

She shifted in his arm, and slowly lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. "There was something. Something round."

"Did you touch it?"

"No. I don't think I was supposed to." She sluggishly raised her chin and looked at him. "But you did."

He blinked a few times, feeling his brain fight through fog. "What?"

"You must have. Or you wouldn't be here."

"How would you . . ." he yawned.

She just smiled. "Maybe we should just rest."

"Yes, I suppose so." He forced his eyes open, but they felt heavy, pulled down and inwards. He had a vague recollection of going through the wall, and the sucking, heavy feeling that weighed him down. The room seemed thicker, darker, greener. He couldn't see Abrams, not really. "Just rest, just for a moment." His chest felt heavier, and he had a vague sensation of drowning on the inside. _Must be what pneumonia feels like._

_No, no rest! Get up!_

Or a heart attack. He wasn't having a heart attack, was he? No, of course not. She was here, and she was acting just as sluggish, and he knew that wasn't right but he didn't have the strength to argue.

_Get up, you arse!_

His breath caught, and he tried to open his eyes. "Rodney?"

"Carson? He's not here, remember?" Lenore was like lead on his arm.

_It's the room. You have to get out, now!_

"Room . . ." he muttered.

"Heavy," she agreed, fading.

_Closing in on you._

Lenore grunted, her breathing slowing.

_Open your eyes, you daft fool! You've no chance if you sleep! Rodney needs you!_

"Dream voice," he said sluggishly with a smile. "You know, when you're almost asleep . . ."

"Carson," Lenore gasped.

He blinked, and realized he was laying on the floor, with her half on top of him. She pushed to her hands, eyes unfocused. "Can't breathe."

The room was darker, and thicker. Carson raised his hand, fighting against the pressure. He forced his mind to focus, and in an instant of clarity, realized what the voice in his head was trying to tell him.

"Room. Closing in on us." He pushed onto his elbows, feeling Lenore roll from his legs. "Up. Get up." He tried, but he couldn't move.

"Doc . . ." the sound was a heavy grumble, and a large form approached. The next thing he knew, he was hauled over Abrams' shoulder. He was faintly aware of Lenore's cry of pain as she was dragged beside him, and then the pressure consumed him.


	8. Chapter 8

"I have it!" Radek ran into the commissary, his hair wild from frantically running his hands through it, his glasses askew on top of his head. His eyes were bleary from overuse. "I think I've figured it out."

Sheppard looked up from where he had silently been pushing his food around on his tray. Ronon was sitting beside him, no food, arms folded on the table. He gave Radek a stern look, not so much because of the interruption, but because he had been impatient for news.

"You have to come and see. I figured out how to test the theory, and," he stood, waving for them to follow, "bring your tray. You have to come, at once."

"Not hungry, been trying to tell him," Sheppard muttered, and followed quickly.

The orb was sitting on the stand, with oddly bent wires surrounding it like a television receiver gone wild. Sheppard halted at the sight. "I'm pretty sure it didn't look like that when I first saw it."

"No, no of course not, but was only way I could get the orb to activate. What Rodney did, I do not know, but here. Watch." He set an apple on the table, just in front, and tapped a few buttons on the console.

The apple vanished.

Ronon and Sheppard both hurried to the spot where the fruit had been. "It's gone," Ronon said deeply.

"Yes," Radek agreed.

Ronon's brows raised. He was used to McKay's sharp retorts. He hadn't expected the scientist to agree with him.

"Meaning they were transported after all," Sheppard said.

"No, well, not exactly." Radek sat in a nearby chair and swiveled to a screen. "Look here." He pointed to the energy pattern, highlighting a flat line. "This is the reading measured inside the orb when it was first tested, after it was discovered." He pointed to a plateau. "This is after Rodney and Carson were reported missing." He pointed to another plateau, much smaller. "And this is the latest reading." He nodded at the look of comprehension on Sheppard's face.

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Carson blinked. He could breathe, the room was lighter, and his companions were collapsed beside him. He sucked in the wonderful stale air, glad it was present, no matter how old it was. He also had an inkling it would be a very long time before he went swimming again. His companions were breathing easily, and their pulses showed no signs of undue stress. He sighed, and his breath caught as a small, red object rolled into the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What does it mean?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard was staring at the orb in disbelief. "I think it means they're inside that thing."

And again, Radek nodded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carson was studying the apple. It looked real enough. It certainly smelled delicious. But his trust level had plummeted. He threw it into the corner, watching it smack against the wall satisfyingly, leaving white bits and juice scattered.

"What the . . ." Abrams jerked up, then moaned and lay back down.

"Easy. Your body's been through a shock." He placed a hand on the large man's chest, glancing over to Lenore. She was sitting up, slowly. "By the way, thank you for getting us out of there. How did you know?"

"I saw one of those damn ripples," Abrams muttered. "Thought it best to go through before we suffocated."

"That was . . . oddly unselfish of you."

"Never leave a man behind. No matter how much you may want to."

Carson sighed and looked around. Little had changed.

Of course.

He sat heavily.

Lenore rubbed at her eyes. She looked around, and smiled, relief finding her face. "Safe room."

"What?" Carson shook his head as he looked. "How can you tell?"

She was nodding, and suddenly looked years younger. "I can tell. This is where we started."

There were no markings, nothing to distinguish this room from the others, except for the shift in light. "The safe room wasn't this dark."

"The rooms all darken. They were all much lighter when I came here."

He wanted to ask. But he knew he'd get no answer.

But to his surprise, she continued to talk. "Thoughts get darker. The rooms mirror the thoughts, the despair. That's why we should've stayed here. It would've stayed light for us."

"And the others would still be alive." Rodney would still be alive.

She shrugged. "Don't know about that. Maybe."

Carson shuffled over to her. "But this is a safe room. That means those . . . things . . . don't happen here. Right?"

"Not yet." Her eyes were unreal, and settled on his.

"Not – not yet?" Carson groaned. "Christ, but I'm sick of this place!" He looked to the ceiling. "Hey! HEY! Enough of this bullshit, whoever you are! You hear me? HEY!"

"They hear you," Lenore said.

"And just how the hell do you know that, love?"

"Because I hear you. Because I am you."

Baffled didn't begin to describe the look on his face. "Excuse me?"

"I said, I am you."

He looked affronted. "You most certainly are not!"

"I am." She turned as the wall shimmered.

"God, that just doesn't get any easier!" Rodney complained.

Carson spun and nearly fell to the floor. "Rodney!"

Rodney waved weakly, acting as though he just walked in through the front door. "Yeah. Hi. Glad to see you're okay." He was wincing and rubbing his arm. "'Bout time I found you, thought I was going to be lost in this damn place forever."

Carson managed to move from his shock, and guided his friend down as he fell to the floor. "How? What happened?"

"Walls." He was smiling, damn him. Smiling.

"What's so funny?"

"What she said. About her being you."

"You heard that?"

"Right when I walked in."

"Well . . . it isn't funny! It's ludicrous!"

"Oh come on!" He nodded toward Lenore. "Don't you find this just the least bit amusing?"

His reappearance, as though nothing had happened, unnerved Carson. He felt as though he was losing his grip. "What – no! She's – she's bonkers, I am not a bloody girl!"

"Neither is she, really, I bet she's around fifty or so."

Carson bristled. "I mean, I am not a female!" His shock eased into realization as he eyed his friend up and down.

"I could take issue with that," Abrams said from the corner. He was as startled at Rodney's reappearance as Carson, but refused to show it.

Lenore just took it in stride. "Told you," she said.

Carson chose to ignore them, and grabbed Rodney's arms. "You're really here, you're alive!"

"Seem to be." He winced again, and Carson released him, then pulled the short sleeve up over Rodney's shoulder, reveling a series of cuts.

"How?"

"I told you. The walls." He twirled his finger at the wall. "You know, that shimmery thing. Managed to get through before becoming a voo-doo doll."

"But . . .god, you're . . ." Carson could say no more. He pulled Rodney into a hug, startling the other man. Everything was on speed. He was on speed. Too much, just too much.

"Aw . . .ain't that sweet," Abrams drawled from the corner.

And it grated on him. He chose to forget that Abrams had lost his men. Carson no longer cared. He was reaching his emotional limit. To be truthful, he had passed his limit a long time back, but was now at the point of refusing to acknowledge there was ever a point when he wasn't angry. It was too much, being here, seeing people die, seeing a friend somehow survive what should have been certain death; a sign of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could survive this after all. "Go to Hades!" he snapped.

"Draw me a map, Mr. Genocide."

Snapping point imminent. Carson reddened with rage. "You . . .you did not just say that."

"What I said was the truth, and you know it. Hoff ring a bell, doctor? Those poor people."

"That was their choice." And why were they talking about it?

"And you helped them. How many would have lived?"

It broke. With a roar Carson ran at him.

He slammed Abrams into the wall, thumbs pressed deep into his throat. He heard Rodney's yell, felt strong hands grip his arms, felt his balance try to give as he was tugged from behind. Abrams had his hands on Carson's wrists, trying to twist them away, but there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen, even if every bone cracked within him. A body pressed against his, and Rodney's hands joined Abrams' in wresting Carson away.

And that was when the rage passed, and reason slowly set in. He saw himself in action, saw in painful detail what he was doing. "Oh– Oh my god." He backed away quickly, knocking Rodney aside. He slumped, reached down for the floor, fell to a seated position.

Rodney was breathing heavily. He turned a livid face to Abrams, barely resisting the urge to punch him in the mouth himself. "That was totally uncalled for!"

"Like I said. That was the truth."

"It was not the truth! And what, were you trying to provoke him into attacking you?"

"He obviously has it in him." He spat. "Which again proves my point."

"And what point is that?"

"That your friend there isn't what he seems to be." Abrams folded his arms and looked down at the shaken man.

Rodney's jaw worked. His eyes blazed as he took four steps forward to glare into Abrams' face. "Unfortunately for us, you are _exactly_ what you seem to be." He held the gaze, then turned and walked to his friend. Abrams just gave a huff of disbelief and turned away.

Rodney held onto Carson's shoulders. The man was shaking, trembling. "Look, forget about it. What happened, it's in the past. Right?" He sucked at the whole consoling thing. Never had a use for it.

Carson met his eyes, holding on desperately to the dark blue gaze he thought he had lost. "We've got to get out of here, Rodney."

"I know, I know." Rodney sighed. "I'm working on it."


	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth was staring at the orb, bent down, mesmerized by a tiny flashing light that she hadn't noticed before. "So this isn't random?"

"No." Radek was hunched over his desk.

"I take it you have no idea how to get them out?"

"No."

"Not much for conversation, are you?"

"No."

She straightened and looked at Sheppard. "They really are inside that thing?"

"Seem to be." He studied the array of materials that had been erected around the orb to keep it perfectly stationary. "Hate to think what could have happened when it hit the floor."

"I mean, they aren't physically in there, are they?"

"They have been converted to energy. Problem is, finding out which energy is theirs."

"There's no distinct signature?"

"Only an increase when the object was sucked in. I tried once more. Somewhere in that orb two apples are rolling around."

"Not if Rodney found them."

Radek sighed. "I don't even know if they have form. They could be in there asleep, not even aware of what has happened."

"Or they could be joined at the hip. Or come out joined at the hip." Sheppard wished he could jam the comment back in, as soon as he said it, because Radek was glaring at him.

"Yes," he muttered, "it presents a tidy problem, sorting out their codes from that of everything else in there. I can not do this with all the surrounding hysteria!" His voice rose and he slapped his hand on the desk, turning back to his readings and the odd equipment he had connected to the datapad.

They took the hint, which was really a demand, and left Radek to his work, but not before the source of irritation was made known in the form of a reluctant Kavannaugh shouldering past them, rubbing his tired eyes and grumbling about how this was taking away from his personal time.

They just managed to hear a remark in Czech that could only be a threat, and Beckett's name. Their imagination provided the rest.

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Rodney had found another panel. Carson watched him work, wondering why they seemed to appear wherever Rodney was, as he hadn't seen one in the rooms during Rodney's absence.

"Nothing, though there is a little more here to work with." He sighed and closed the door. "This is getting old. Real old."

"No good then?"

"Of course not." Rodney sighed. "Why couldn't you have just walked in noisily like any normal person? Then I wouldn't have dropped that damn orb and hit that . . . whatever I hit . . . and we wouldn't be in this god-forsaken mess!"

"You're blaming me?"

"Damn right I'm blaming you! Because I have to blame someone, so it might as well be you!"

"You're the one that dropped the bloody ball!"

"Oh, nice euphemism there, hot shot!"

"What's happening," Lenore asked, panicked. Her arms stretched out, and she shrieked, "What's happening?"

"What, we just got here!" Rodney's comment went unheard as she screamed.

"Lenore!" Carson started to run forward, but Rodney beat him. He watched as Abrams collapsed, his large bulk writhing in pain. Rodney bent over him, touched his arm, and yelped as he pulled his hand away. Abrams' skin stretched between them, stringy and taut.

"Oh SHIT!" Rodney shrieked, frantically wiping his hand on his shirt. "He's tearing apart!"

"Rodney!" Carson ran to him, pulling him back and pressing them both to the wall. Their companions continued to cry out, rolling, their skin slowly peeling from them and sticking to the floor.

Lenore's face pressed to the floor as she rolled onto her stomach. She screamed in terror as she tried to push herself up, feeling her face stick to the floor, feeling the flesh pull in strings like taffy as she cried out, her large eyes imploring the horror-stricken men. Her lips pulled back grotesquely, revealing gums ripping from bone. "Help – me." Unable to fight the strain any longer, she cried as her face slammed against the floor, and sobbed in pure fright as her skin flattened around her.

Abrams' pitched yells were short and desperate as his flesh melted out around him, dripping from his fingers, sagging from his eye sockets. It took only moments before both he and Lenore melded into one large pinkish pool of flesh, looking like rolled silly-putty. Abrams' elbow jutted out from the center of the puddle, and Lenore's mouth cried out from the joint.

Carson and Rodney weren't aware of anything but their own repulsive screams as the wall opened up behind them and pulled them through.

"Shut it off! _Je_! _Shut it off!_" Radek yanked at the cord that connected the orb to a power distribution coil. "_Soustani_!"

"What happened?"

"I do not know. Nothing good. There was no feedback loop, the power just kept building."

"Too much?"

"Too much."

"So that's not the answer."

"No." Radek sighed and ran his hand through tousled hair. "We will try something else."

Rodney collapsed on Carson, and the medical doctor frantically shoved him away. He scurried to the corner of the room, gasping, his eyes wide in terror.

It was some time before Rodney dared speak. "That . . . that was . . ." he shook his head, the squeak of his voice revealing his discomfiture.

"Oh Mother of Mary," Carson finally breathed, and did something Rodney had never seen him do in all the years he'd known the man.

He crossed himself.

Rodney swallowed. "You know, I – I think there is a chance we may not get out of here." His eyes watered, and he wiped at them angrily, looking around the room. "I hate this place." He stood, glaring at the walls. "I hate this place! You hear me? I HATE this place!" He lunged forward and punched the wall. "God dammit! Whoever you are, you SUCK!"

"That's the best you can do?" The voice held a hint of defeat, but Carson's eyes were livid.

Rodney sighed, and his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the wall, forcing back tears of desperation he refused to let Carson see. "What's that song, what's that song . . ."

"_What?_"

"Something about the wind and purple islands. I was humming it when I was alone, trying to find you guys, I don't know why, it just got stuck in my head and it wouldn't go away." He was babbling, and he knew he was, and he didn't care. It kept his thoughts at bay, forced the fear to the back.

Carson was slowly rising to his feet. "Have you gone mad, son?"

"Oh come on, you'd know it! It's been stuck in my head for the longest time." Rodney turned and leaned back against the wall, his eyes tight shut in concentration. "Oh, uh . . . 'Brave are the hearts that beat beneath the Scottish skies'."

Carson frowned. "How the devil do you know that?"

"Hello? McKay here? Mac Kay?" He sighed. "Honestly."

But Carson was shaking his head. "Was that supposed to make you feel better?"

"Actually I was hoping it would make you feel better, but I can't remember it."

"Me? You wanted to make me feel better? After what we just saw?" Carson pointed to the wall, not knowing if the remains of Abrams and Lenore were on the other side, or had become one with the floor.

Rodney didn't know what to say, but his distraction wasn't working for either of them. He passed off the remark with a wave of his hand and a smart-ass comment. "So much for fixing things."

It was a mistake.

Again, Carson's pent up rage cracked. In the space of a breath he had Rodney against the wall, his hand crushing the startled man's windpipe. "I'll let you in on a little secret, son," he said in a low voice, "I am a physician. I hold the power of life and death in my hands. I can heal, dammit. I can heal people, or I can let them die. You got that? I can kill you now, not completely, but just close enough," he squeezed tighter, "and bring you back. How often have I brought you back from the brink of death? Do you understand that? I can kill you, Rodney. Your life is literally in my hands." He leaned in, his mouth close to Rodney's. "I can feel your pulse. I can feel the blood, and I can stop the flow. I can leave you here. I can kill you."

A running thought steam-railed though Rodney's mind . . . this is insane this is insane, this . . ."C-Cars . . ." he croaked, clawing at the grip.

"I have a choice. Either I let you go, or not. It's so simple." He gave a short laugh. "Why is this one choice so simple? Of all the choices I can make, this one is broken down to simplicity, yet covers so much ground. A human life." His eyes were scary. "So do I, Rodney? Do I kill you? You decide."

Rodney couldn't speak.

"Oh, bloody hell then, leave it to me to decide. Don't you think I have enough on my mind?" His grip increased, and Rodney gave a final choke. "I can stop this, but I can't save the others. I mean, isn't that crazy? I have no control. I had to watch. Every . . . single . . . time I had to watch, and there was nothing I could do. This . . . this I can stop whenever I want. _I _control this." He gave one final push, and let go.

Rodney doubled over and crashed to his knees, grabbing his throat, rasping, struggling for breath. He coughed painfully, rolled to his side, and instantly felt hands grab him. He fought them off, but they were only pulling him up.

"No! Nonono, no rest. The room'll suck you in. Don't you see? It'll suck you in, tear off your flesh, until you're nothing."

Rodney pushed him away, his eyes wide. "Carson," he croaked, "stay – the fuck – away from me."

"I think I have it this time."

"Radek, you better be sure."

"I am certain."

"Certain sure?"

"Yes." And he connected the power box. "I think."


	10. Chapter 10

Hours had passed. The two men sat in opposite corners, staring at each other. Either dared to sleep. Neither wanted to blink. They just stared, neither trusting, neither knowing what to do, and almost not caring. Almost.

He remembered what Abrams had said. "You friend ain't what he seems to be." Rodney found himself wondering how much of that was true. After what happened . . . no. No, it was reaction, it was desperation, it was a man driven to the edge. He had let Rodney go. But that was after . . . but he let him go. He acted on his own judgement.

Something was tickling the back of Rodney's mind. Something he had seen, or read, or written. It came to him slowly, a phrase that had been in his head since they first entered hell. "Judgement day."

Rodney had finally blinked. He no longer looked zoned out or detached. His eyes regained focus.

"What did you say?" Carson's voice was hoarse.

"I said judgement day. I can't believe I forgot."

"Is this a holiday I'm not aware of?"

"No. It was something I was researching, something that I though might have to do with the orb I was studying. I had found a reference in a text regarding a orb of great power that was used to test for a pure soul." He straightened and cleared his dry throat. "You see, when the ancients first started researching ascension, they thought that only the purest soul could ascend, and so they rigged these devices, these tests, to see who was pure and who wasn't. And that orb, I think it was such a device."

"So . . . does that tell you where we are?"

Rodney winced slightly. "Inside."

"What – wait, what? Inside?" He slowly stood. "We're inside that bloody thing?"

"Sort of."

"Well, how the hell do we get out?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't get that far. But I'm pretty sure it has to be done from the outside, and not in here. Otherwise the test subject could just leave when things got a bit tough."

"A bit tough?" Carson laughed, turning away to face the wall.

Rodney was instantly on his guard, half afraid Carson would loose it again. "I think we're being tested. Actually, considering your reaction . . . I think you're being tested."

"For ascension? Are you daft?"

Rodney shook his head rapidly. "It doesn't know! We got here by accident, but it doesn't know that. It just knows to run the test."

"Then what about the others? It just decide to test them too?"

Rodney closed his eyes. "I don't know. I haven't figured that out yet."

"No. This isn't about me!" There was no way. He wouldn't be held responsible for this.

"Oh, come on, Carson, think about it!" Rodney snapped his fingers. "Wait, wait, I heard Lenore said she's you. Now I dismissed it at the time, but maybe, just maybe, she _was_ a part of you, and-and acted out that part."

"And what about you! Are you a figment of my imagination too, then?"

Rodney thought about it, and smiled humorlessly. "Why not? If there's one thing I learned early on in quantum physics, it's that everything is an issue of perception. No one sees the world the same way." He took notice of Carson's puzzled expression. "Okay, look, we two see things that no one else sees, that no one can possibly see. And we each see it differently. You look at people, and you see them as walking work," he raised a finger as Carson rolled his eyes, "no, stay with me, don't get all huffy. You see the medical aspect. Elizabeth sees the social aspect. I see how it all interconnects." He threaded his fingers as an example, then lowered his hands, his eyes taking in the room around him. "We all see things differently. The person you see as me, isn't who I see as me. Therefore, it is an illusion created by your mind, by your own perception. Make sense?"

Carson wasn't sure which was more disorienting, the subject or the way Rodney was discussing it so calmly. "Disturbingly so. So how did you come up with this?"

"Try studying the inner mechanics of the universe at four am with no sleep and five cups of coffee."

"And time here to contemplate it."

"I think you're the only one who can get us out."

Carson shook his head incredulously. "You _are_ daft!"

"Not with the degrees I have."

"Explain yourself, then!"

"Well," Rodney pointed to a small panel, "it came to me when I first noticed these. Now if we were on Atlantis, I could access these panels and the controls inside. But these may as well be empty for all I understand them, and some actually are, and its because _you_ don't know what's in them. You don't understand the mechanics on the same level that I do." His hands were moving, graphically underlining his speech. Now he reached out towards Carson, begging for him to understand. "You couldn't design it. You needed something familiar, something from the station. Well, these little access panels are everywhere, especially outside the infirmary. I bet you've wondered about them."

"Yes . . ."

"And they started appearing on the walls. They weren't already here, there's no design to compensate for them, no reason for them to be here. I think you're trying to create something without realizing it."

"You're crackers."

"Carson, there's no other explanation!"

"Then how did I get us here?"

"I don't know!" His speech over, he threw up his hands uselessly. He stared at a spot on the floor, then snapped his fingers and looked up. "What were you thinking when you entered my lab?"

Carson frowned as he thought back. "I – I heard from Louise that . . . oh god."

"Oh god, what? What is it?"

His eyes widened. "Remember the accident on M42-5223?"

"The one that knocked out half the city?"

"It was out fault, we tried to help, but we had so many injured coming through. I couldn't count them all, let alone save them. I felt overwhelmed, and useless. I felt like I was trying to do the right thing, but more kept coming, and all because I . . ." he paused, unable to continue.

"Kind of felt like Hoff all over again."

His expression darkened. "A bit. And some of our men were down. Three died."

Rodney swallowed before asking slowly, "Not Shaw, Burkes and Abrams?"

"No. Three others. But I saw Lt. Shaw and company on the way to find you. I passed them in the hall, there were a lot of military personnel there."

"So . . . you conjured them here."

Carson visibly shook the memories away. "But why? And what of Lenore?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't know. She was scared, yet reasonable." He looked up. "Maybe they represent something. I guess the soldiers could be protection."

"But they couldn't protect anyone."

"Exactly. And they died here."

"Go on."

"Lenore . . . maybe she represented your reason. Your ability to keep your head. I mean, when she died, you . . ." he twirled his finger meaningfully in the air, not wanting to dredge up bad memories. Of course this whole place was nothing but a bad memory. "Look, I'm guessing here, odd as that may sound." He changed the subject, taking a step closer. "Why were you coming to see me, Carson? Why were you coming to my lab?"

Carson exhaled loudly, his face a reflection of the growing confusion he felt inside. "I – I was going to tell you what was happening. I needed to talk."

Rodney looked mildly surprised, his interrogation halted in its tracks. "And you came to me? For that?"

"For god's sake, we are friends, aren't we? Isn't that what friends do?"

"Sure, I'm just. . .I . . . thank you." Embarrassed, he turned to gaze at the panel. "What were you feeling?" His voice was smaller as he wrestled with the sudden notion that someone would seek him out for personal reasons.

Carson ran his tongue along his teeth, stalling. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts, and he started to pace, slowly. "To be honest, I was scared to death. Everything was happening too fast. I couldn't keep up, and once things ebbed, I needed to get away. What I really wanted was to hop the first flight back to earth, and I – I guess I needed a reason not to."

"You wanted to leave Atlantis?" Rodney's voice was still small. It was evident he felt uncomfortable with the close conversation.

"Aye. But when I saw you there, I realized I couldn't." He stared at his feet. "I've never felt a part of a team as I have here. It isn't home, and it isn't my family, but it's what I have." He sighed. "I genuinely care for you, all of you. I can't leave you here to face the dangers alone."

Rodney turned. His eyes were soft with emotion. "That's it."

"What's it?"

"That's how we got in here. You needed an escape."

"Wha — I didn't need a bloody place that kills people!"

"No one is really dead, Carson!"

"Then what do you represent? Why aren't you 'dead' along with them?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Arrogance, tunnel vision, pig-headedness. . ."

"All perfectly honorable traits, but what do you really think?"

Carson shook his head and backed away. "No. I don't know."

"Think about it."

"No."

"Carson! I'm the only one left! I'm your way out, now think!"

"No!"

"THINK, DAMN YOU!"

"TRUST, OKAY?" Carson yelled, his emotion and exhaustion bursting forth.

Rodney looked stunned. "Say that again?"

Carson didn't want to. "God, Rodney, you represent everything there is about Atlantis. The uncertainty, the fear, the craziness. But most of all, trust. People put their lives on the line for you, and you do the same. You come up with more solutions than five of your scientists combined. You are the one we look to when we need a fix. You have the ear of everyone on that station, whether they like it or not. They may not like you, but they trust you."

"Not always."

"They trust you, Rodney."

Rodney sagged, suddenly feeling the weight of Carson's words. _They_, not _we_. "You don't, do you?"

Carson turned away, unable to answer.

"You don't trust me?" He laughed humorlessly, then rounded on him. "How can you not trust me? You, of all people! You're my oldest friend here!"

"I . . ."

"Tell me!"

"Maybe because I've no reason to!"

"_What_?" This time the laugh was one of pure disbelief. "I saved you from that Wraith! Remember that?"

"Actually I recall saving you from him!"

"I — distracted him!"

Carson sighed. "You did, Rodney, and I know you'd be there for me in a pinch . . ."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is. . .I don't know. I don't know!" He flung his hand towards him in irritation. "You seem to know everything, you figure it out!"

"This isn't my concern!"

"And it's no longer mine! Do you understand?"

He was yelling, and Rodney could sense the anger rising, and the confusion, and the fear. "Carson?"

"No! I'm tired of the self-analysis! I want to go home! You hear me?" he yelled at the walls, "Home! I want to go back to Atlantis! NOW!"

And everything went black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't what he expected, and it nearly gave him a heart-attack. Radek heard a loud noise, turned, and tripped over Dr. Carson Beckett.

"What the . . ._do prdele_!" His eyes widened as he sat up from his tumble, and scampered to his knees, bending over the prone doctor. One shaky hand tapped his earpiece as the other feebly checked for a pulse. "Colonel Sheppard! Get back here, we've got them!" He carefully rolled the unconscious man over, checking for injuries, and seeing none. Dark lashes fluttered for a moment before opening to reveal vivid eyes.

Carson jerked upright as Sheppard stomped into the room. "What the hell?"

"Colonel! Radek!" Carson's head snapped from one impossible view to the other. His eyes blinked in astonishment, frantically taking in the tilted view of the science lab. He pushed onto on elbow, feeling hands on him. "Oh my god . . . we're back?" He put his hand to his chest and fell into Radek's arms. "We're back."

"Back from where? And where's Rodney?"

"Rodney?" Carson darted a glance around, and scrambled to sit up. "Rodney! Oh crap . . . you mean he isn't . . ."

There was another loud sound, a flash of blinding light, and a crumpled figure on the floor appeared at Sheppard's feet. Sheppard yelled out and jumped back, then bent over his friend.

"Oh thank god," Carson crawled to him and pushed Sheppard aside, turning Rodney over carefully. He slowly glanced up at the men who stood over them. Neither one looked like they knew how to deal with the situation.

Carson returned his attention to Rodney, checking his pulse, feeling his forehead, looking for signs of injury. He heard a voice, heard it again, then was aware of his name being called sharply. He blinked, realizing he was staring up at the ceiling, and Radek's arm was beneath his head. "I'm calling for Dr. Tinsdale."

"No! I'm fine, really, just . . .reaction I suppose." He fully expected Radek to comment on his head injury, and was surprised when nothing was said. A hand carefully lifted to his injury.

There was nothing but smooth skin.

He looked at Rodney, at his neck, his arms, his head. There were no signs of injury at all.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Sheppard asked as Rodney gave a classic loud stab at consciousness.

Carson could only shake his head. "I honestly have no idea."

Sheppard nodded, and keyed his comm, saying the words he had been craving to pass on for a while.

"Elizabeth! We've got them!"


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to Mel for mention of the song lyrics!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It looked so innocuous. Rodney was actually tossing it carelessly from hand to hand. "Apparently it's some kind of Ancient holding device," he said, looking not at the people listening to him, but at the orb itself. "The best way to find out what a person is made of is to subject them to all sorts of tortures and depravation. I believe this was a method developed by the ancients of having people judge themselves."

"Judge themselves for what?"

"My guess is to see if they were worthy enough to participate in the ascension experiments. We do know that the ancients developed the means to ascend through experimentation, and we know through experience that sending the wrong people through them proves disastrous, to say the least." Rodney rolled the orb around in his hand. "It's fascinating. Once the person reaches the conclusion for the reason behind his doings, he is released, hopefully with a broader understanding of what happened to him and his relationship to everything. Rather Bonaventure in a way."

Sheppard frowned. "Rather what?"

Rodney continued to study the orb. "St. Bonaventure. Thirteenth century or so. Guess you could say he was one of the first metaphysical physicists." Rodney smiled absently.

"And?"

"And, he had all these odd theories, but one actually makes sense, and now I'm wondering where he got the idea." He tapped the orb. "He was very much a 'faith versus reason' guy, except he was joining them together, showing that science was nothing more than a branch of faith. I could debate that, but I'm not going to right now." He winced as he thought back, his hand waving about conversationally. "Actually I don't remember that much about him, but I do recall something about a supposed Third Power of the Soul, which involved the power of choice, or one's will. Has something to do with ego and desire, and judgement. That's about as clear as I can get at the moment."

Sheppard remembered the notebook with the hastily scribbled notes. He also remembered there was a lot more on that sheet than McKay was saying. "What, no lecture?"

"Hey, I was also taking a strenuous course in subparticle absorption at the time, so cut me some slack!"

"Meaning what, Dr. McKay?" Weir asked.

"Meaning . . . Carson was in a situation where he was testing himself. He was testing his will, his power of choice, and letting his intellect be his own judgement."

"And the two of you were inside that thing?" Sheppard frowned at the orb.

"In a manner of speaking. There's an energy converter, just here," Rodney pointed to the faint light, "and it reforms matter into a visual. I mean, ultimately we're just energy, right? This thing just . . . reformats it." He smiled, though his face was haggard. It was obvious that, despite what they had been through, he remained fascinated by the object.

"And you've been studying this thing for how long?"

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's better to analyze thing from the inside out." Rodney sent Carson a pointed look, which the physician turned away from.

"So you were in a series of rooms," Weir pressed.

"All conjured up by our good doctor here." Rodney handed the orb to Carson. "Quite insightful, really." If his eyes showed the slightest bit of pain, it was hidden well.

"Can it, Rodney," Carson muttered. His expression showed that he wished no further discussion on the subject. Dammit, he was tired, and he wanted to rest. Really rest.

Weir nodded. "I'd like for you to continue to study this device, but only if it's safe. No more disappearing acts. Now, can you promise me that, or do we ship this thing to the nearest vacant planet?"

"No, no, I understand how this thing works now. Just keep Carson far from it, and we'll be fine."

Weir gave a satisfied nod. "Fine. Will I see you both for dinner, then?"

Carson managed a thin smile. "We'll be there."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The screen before him kept blurring. Rodney punched at the keyboard, then sighed and leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face and feeling stubble. A knock at the door pulled him from his seat automatically, and he was at the door before being conscious of it.

"Rodney? Can I come in?"

Rodney stared. It was eleven pm. Carson never came to his room, much less late at night. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just. . .needed to talk."

"Oh. Well. . .come in." He scrubbed at his face. "Coffee?"

"You have some prepared?"

"You serious?" The comment was cast over his shoulder as he walked across the large room to his desk. On a small table behind it sat a small coffee pot.

Carson eyed the location as he scuffed to a stop. "You like to keep it a bit near, don't you? Aren't you afraid of spilling?"

"That's why it's behind me, not on the desk." He poured a mugful and handed it to Carson. "Might as well sit. . . uh. . ." he glanced around and pushed a small pile of shirts from a chair. For the most part the room was immaculate, but there were bits that definitely screamed Rodney McKay. "There you go."

"Thank you." Carson sat back and contemplated the metal mug he'd been given. It looked like the walls of the safe room. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" He couldn't decide if Rodney was in the throes of work, or getting ready for bed. His t-shirt was rumpled, his pants hung loose over bare feet.

"No, no. . .so, what did you want to talk about?" Rodney's tone was too casual. He raised the mug to his lips.

"Well, attacking you. And what I said earlier about my not trusting you."

"Remember that, do you?"

"Of course."

"Well. That's too bad cause I, uh. . .I was just going to tell you to forget it. No harm, no foul, that sort of thing." He set his mug down and walked back over to his laptop, not sitting at his desk, but bending over the back of his chair to punch at the keyboard.

"Rodney. . ."

"I guess if you need to, go ahead and talk. I have to keep monitoring this mathematical experiment I've got going on here, but talk away."

"Rodney, I need you over here to listen. I'm not going to compete with a program that runs just as well on autopilot."

Caught. Rodney sighed and shut the lid. "Okay. Maybe this isn't something I care to discuss."

"But I need to. Can you accept that, at least?"

"Fine." He resumed his seat, his arms folded.

"Don't go getting all defensive."

"I'm not! I always sit this way."

"Liar." Carson caught his word as soon as it left his mouth. "I'm sorry. That doesn't help matters much."

Rodney circled his finger in the air impatiently. "Just talk."

"Okay." Carson took a deep breath. "Back there, in the orb, I said that I didn't trust you. I guess I should explain that."

"If you must."

"God, Rodney, I knew you weren't going to make this easy, but Christ!"

"That's twice in one sentence. Think he'll listen?"

"I'm leaving." Carson stood, setting his coffee on the table beside him, and headed towards the door. A sudden hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Wait! I'm sorry, really. I'm just. . .okay, you talk. I'll just shut up. Right now." Rodney backed away and held his hand toward the seat that was vacated.

Carson returned to his seat. Rodney once again handed him his mug, and returned to his own, sipping at the dark brew. He waited patiently.

"God," Carson muttered, after several moments of silence, and set his mug back to the side. He leaned forward, clasping his fingers together. "Listen. You're a good friend, Rodney. I like you despite the fact that you drive me bloody insane. Okay? I like you."

"But you don't trust me."

There was a hesitation. "No."

"Why? What have I done?" The poor man seemed genuinely confused, and torn apart.

Such hurt was rare on Rodney's face, and Carson couldn't stand it. He braced himself. "Because I know you of old. I know the scientist that couldn't care less for the injured or sick, who only wanted what was necessary for the experiment to continue. Sacrifice whom and whatever to get the job done." He stood, and Rodney followed him with his eyes. "I see who you've become, and I treasure that. But I can't reconcile that with who you were, and who you were, I didn't trust. I'm not sure where to draw the line."

"This is about my destroying that solar system, isn't it?"

"That was merely a relapse."

"So you're saying if you were in the field with me, you think I would run and leave you to danger."

"The old Rodney would have. But no, not this one. I mean, you didn't did you? You never have, not since you stepped foot on Atlantis."

"And yet you still don't trust me."

"I have to know this will last." Carson knelt down before Rodney, the way a sinner asks for forgiveness. "We've talked since coming here. We've been able to open up to each other. Jesus knows how many times I've treated you for something, or thought you were going to die underneath my hands. And each time you come back slightly different. I understand these experiences can change a person, but you are a regular chameleon. You blend in with the circumstance, and there are times when I wonder where the real Rodney McKay is."

Rodney nodded. "Okay. Fine. And in return, I have to know who the real Carson Beckett is."

He deserved that. He could still feel Rodney's throat in his grasp, see the incomprehensible fear in his friend's eyes. There were levels within him best kept to himself, but he was beginning to think that, with life on Atlantis, that wouldn't be possible for very much longer. "Agreed."

They both stood, Rodney jerking his shoulders back to pop the joints. His back was to Carson, and he talked to the wall. "I'll tell you what the difference is now. Back there I didn't have to worry about my own life. I was Mr. Invincible." He glanced over his shoulder slightly, and smiled.

"Captain Untouchable."

"Touche. Out here, you have to trust. You have to open up, and that's been. . ." he closed his eyes, "that has been the hardest thing for me to do. So no, I guess I'm not who I was then. I still love my work, god, I love science, and I'm happiest when I'm locked in my lab. But I can't stay in there, no more than we could stay in that safe room."

"Funny that I created that place, and not you."

"Maybe you have more hidden issues to work out." Rodney headed back to his desk. He opened the laptop, waited for the screen, and tapped a few keys. Then he closed it again. "I don't know, maybe I went through my own transformation in there. Or maybe I'm going through one out here, and this whole station is my orb." He chuckled.

He didn't doubt it. A smile crossed Carson's lips. "You suddenly seem to be feeling pretty good about things."

Rodney continued to smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I am." He nodded toward his laptop. "My formula finally worked."

Carson's face fell. "You ass! See? That's exactly what I'm talking about!"

"Oh relax, Carson. To tell the truth, I'm. . .glad you said what you did." He grew serious. "It means maybe I'm doing some sort of good after all."

"Rodney?"

Rodney shrugged. "You've got your hangups, I've got mine." His expression drifted. "We should set up another offworld mission together. So I can save your ass and you'll feel better about things."

"What makes you think it's my ass'll need the saving? You're the one constantly getting yourself into scrapes."

"That's not true!"

"Rodney, honestly, remember who treats you! Besides, you talk of saving, what the hell do you think happened back there?" Carson sighed. "We just need to talk more. That's all. Get reacquainted."

And it hit. Rodney's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait." He leaned forward spun around in hilarity. Carson was suddenly rather afraid, especially when the finger was jabbed towards him in triumph. "This has nothing to do with trust!"

"What are you on about?"

His smile was smug. He bounced on the balls of his feet. "You miss me."

"Excuse me?"

"You just said it! We don't talk much anymore, unless you're asking me what hurts. That whole thing with Cadman was the first time in ages we've had any contact. You miss me! This isn't a merely matter of trust!"

"You've gone off the deep end."

Rodney crowed. "Oh no, you can't take it back! You miss our friendship! That's why I was there with you! That's why Colonel Sheppard wasn't, why you didn't conjure him up like you did the others! Oh." His face fell. "Guess he uh. . .he kinda took your place as my confidant, huh?"

"For god sake's Rodney, this isn't a bloody schoolyard! We don't play 'my best friend, my second best, third best' here!"

"Uh-huh." He stood right in front of Carson, his hands tucked into his pockets, his face boyishly pleased. "You miss me."

Vivid blue eyes rolled in exasperation. "All right. I miss you. Happy?"

"Why didn't you just say something?" He was foolishly amused.

"I've been busy! We've all been busy! I didn't even realize it until all this." He realized he was making nervous circles with his hand as he talked, and stopped.

"Carson, listen." Rodney walked over to face him again. "You've had a lot going on. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I should've been."

The suddenly sincerity caught Carson off guard, and he eyed Rodney suspiciously. "You think I'm crackers, don't you?"

"For feeling lonely? For feeling like you're carrying the burden of an entire galaxy on your shoulders?" He snorted. "Welcome to the club. What can I say, we're good at what we do."

"What we've done so far is nearly demolish a race, and destroy a solar system."

"Three quarters. Five eights, really, but who's counting. Like I said, we're good at what we do."

"This isn't what we do."

"I know." Rodney lowered his head, and returned to his laptop. A quick check, and he was back.

There really was a level of depth to Rodney McKay that would never be mined. But Carson was willing to try. "I should let you get back to work," he said, rather reluctantly.

"But I'm nearly done!"

"I'm really very tired." Carson shook out his arms and rounded his shoulders, feeling the fatigue. His body ached like it had been beaten, and in a way, it had been. He swallowed back the memories of what he had seen, and felt, and suddenly knew why Rodney kept returning to his computer. "Of course, a midnight snack would be nice."

"Really?" Rodney perked right up. "I'd like a good Ruben sandwich, you know?" He was already shutting down his system.

"Think we still have what we need for that?" Carson smiled.

"Should have. I've been hoarding."

He laughed. He had to. "It's Antarctica all over again."

Rodney smiled as he led the way out. "Well, it's good to know some things never change, huh?"

"You gonna put on shoes?"

Rodney looked down. "See? What would I do without you?" He walked over to the bed and sat down, hastily lacing his boots without socks.

Carson wondered for a moment. And he remembered back in that room, that one horrible moment, and said softly, "Wild are the winds to meet you, staunch are the friends that greet you. Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's eyes."

The lights dimmed to a soft glow in the room as Rodney straightened. "That's it. That's the song I was trying to remember."

Carson smiled. "Aye, lad," he said quietly. "That's the song."


End file.
